


Fallen Angel Reports

by cardinalwrites



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Cas POV, F/M, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, form Cas's POV, including some small destiel ones, it's a rewrite, spn rewrite, with episode codas to match Cas into each episode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 41,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalwrites/pseuds/cardinalwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPN rewrite all from Castiel's POV. Come join me in seeing Castiel's character progress from the stoic, mindless angel to the exuberant, human, emotional celestial being that has taken over a fandom. </p><p>Starting from season 4, a new chapter will drop every Monday until we reach the current season (half of season 11 can be found on @castielsentries on tumblr now)</p><p>All posts originally posted on tumblr under the blog @castielsentries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 4x01 Lazarus Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Heya everyone!
> 
> So I've toyed with the idea of writing SPN through Castiel's eyes for a while and I started it over on @castielsentries after having done half of season 11 that I loved. Therefore welcome to, well, this! Each episode will have a new scene or just a commentary on what Cas is thinking while watching the Winchesters or while taking out some orders. The format is taken from the tumblr blog previously mentioned, where you'll find over 200 original stories all from Castiel's POV as well about a bunch of different things, not just episode centered ones. 
> 
> There will be a new chapter here and on @castielsentries every Monday, and I recommend giving each episode a rewatch if you have the time before you read. But I'm blabbering. Just start reading!

Report:

The first seal has broken. The time of Revelations is upon us. We have worked to do, but there is one human that needs to do it, that needs to rise so that the divine plan comes to fruition. Dean Winchester.

After I raised him I had to return to Heaven to receive further orders. My superiors were not particularly fond of divulging information if they did not need to, but compartmentalizing information is part of the divine strategy, or so they have told me. I had no orders but to watch over the Righteous man, or at least that was what they alluded to when I was ordered on patrol I suspect.

For a man that most likely has no idea why he was reawakened, Dean looked relatively calmed as he staked out the gas establishment. Food and hygiene it a natural instinct, vital; therefore, I was not surprised when this was what he was looking for. Currency and provisions aside, it was still strange how calm, how collected he looked even in a state of panic that I could feel from deep inside him. This was a man that had secrets, ones that I now knew. What made this man so different that it required so much sacrifice… Dean was placed in my charge, therefore it is my responsibility to know more than what I do now. I need to speak with him. He has seen the handprint, but even then there is no more reaction than mild confusion. Like an impossible puzzle missing it’s pieces, It is nearly impossible to find every part unscathed, especially with what Dean has gone through. I am speaking far more than I should be.

Speaking to this man is impossible in my present form. An angel’s true voice can only be heard by a select few, and it seems that Dean unfortunately is not one of these individuals. I nearly destroyed his ear drums in an attempt to tell him that he is needed. This will not do, but it does send Dean to find another human; Bobby. They quarrel for a moment. I know that Dean is a hunter, therefore tests will be taken, but even then I did not expect this type of altercation. It has been some time since I have taken form on Earth, but that is not of import. I cannot reveal myself yet. I need to know what Dean will do. Bobby asks about Hell, but Dean lies. Why did he lie about Hell? The guilt come off of him in waves; Bobby does not seem akin to it. I had thought Bobby was like Dean’s father, the man that gave Dean orders. It seems Dean does not take his orders from Bobby at all, but he has chosen to find his brother, the boy with the demon blood. Orders are still being followed. He believes that Sam is the one that rescued him from Hell. My, how mistaken he is, but in his speech I learned that he did hear me, if only just. Apparently my voice is grating. I do not know what that implies. No matter. I had reports of Sam in Pontiac, Illinois. The angels had been keeping an eye on him as well over the last four months.

Both men find Sam as well as the demon he was consorting with. They cannot see her true face, but I can. This “Christie,” as it stands, is a danger to the plan. I must speak with Dean, but not yet.

Dean accused Sam, thinking that he made a deal. Now that they know Sam was not the precursor to Dean's raising, they know something else is there. Sam went hunting for Lilith for revenge. Yes, revenge is something that has driven the human race to ruin for millennia. This is normal. Humans are nothing if not creatures of habit… Why am I writing so much on this subject?

They now think that demons are the ones that raised Dean. Uriel must be right in saying that humans seem to have closed minded views on the subject. Sam asked about Hell once more, and once more Dean evades the truth, the guilt and shame rolling off of him. Are these… emotions? Why do I feel them so strongly? It must have a connection to my raising him somehow.

I continue following them for a time before I was called back to Heaven. I am getting the impression that they do not wish for me to “patrol” in the same regard as I thought they had after all. This is strange, but it is not my place to question it. Instead, I am stationed in Heaven overseeing seals. That does not mean I am not sensing a disturbance.

I heard a voice while in Heaven, along with a hand on my left shoulder. It was asking for me to reveal myself. Instantly I knew what this was. It is not uncommon for angels to be summoned.

Pamela Anderson. Psychic. She does not know that spying on one’s true form is very dangerous.  Warning her did not deter her in the slightest, and once the damage was done I was called to file a report about the incident. Zachariah keeps a very tight protocol when it comes to these “mishaps” as he calls them. That does not mean that I feel the shame, like Dean had when he lied. What is going on?

This did not bode well. I wished to not harm her. She seemed to have the best intentions, but she saw my true form; Pamela was not one of those that had the ability to see us. She did succeed in one thing, however: She gave them my name. I need to find a vessel if I wish to engage with them further. Dean cannot be harmed to the point of blindness, not for what he is needed for. 

I asked for jurisdiction to return to Heaven again; I needed to speak with Dean. I had heard that demons were nearing in on Dean; This harms the plan.

When I arrived I found Sam leaving in the middle of the night, Dean alone in the small motel room. This was the most ideal time. I can attempt to speak with him again. If he heard me before, perhaps he will hear better now. It was a naïve assumption, but the only option I had at present. He was just as alarmed then as he was before, a rifle in hand pointed at the door. The more I speak the more damage I seem to do judging by his reaction. The windows once again have split themselves. This will not do. I needed a vessel.

I felt myself being summoned, but this time I am not going to harm them the way I inadvertently had before. Jimmy had accepted me for this very reason. Now I can walk freely without cause or damage. I could speak with the Righteous Man, the one my superiors entrusted me with.

He stabbed me. Understandable, I suppose, but time was being wasted. The first seal had already broken and it would not be long before the others continued. Dean needed to know, but he was the only one who needed to know. Bobby was placed unconscious as a result.

Dean seemed to take the news about our existence rather as I had expected. A man without faith will never acknowledge that which he does not believe in. It was unavoidable, that outcome, but I did not expect to see such pain in this man’s eyes. He has been through far too much and is nearly in shambles as a result, yet he continues to defy orders in favor of what he believes. He does not deserve to be saved, yet he was because he was needed. I did not understand his hesitation after that. He asked why, as to be expected, but it is not the time for total truth in Dean's state. He does not know about potential and his true purpose yet. There is much work to be done and not enough time to do so. This is merely the beginning.  _He_ is merely the beginning.

 

End Report.

 

Castiel


	2. 4x02 Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're still here? Great! That makes me happy :)

Report:

6 of my brothers and sisters are dead. This fight is escalating.

We have received orders to continue vigilance and attempt to stop as many seals as possible, but that is proving more difficult than expected. The Rising of the Witnesses has already occurred, an event that we had hoped would not be the case, or rather, that is what I was the reasoning I was given for not aiding in it’s halt. It was strange, but I must follow through with my orders. They are divine orders, given to us with a higher purpose in mind. I am not to question them.

Instead I return to the humans in my charge, these Winchesters. For two humans that have seen far more of the supernatural and existence of such beings, I found it odd that Dean was not as forthcoming in accepting my reasoning than I believed he would have been. Sam is devout, that I have heard from his prayers even if he did not pray directly to one sole angel. Dean on the other hand… In hearing his reasons for believing the way he does I suppose it is understandable. He does not yet know his true purpose, not entirely anyway. I do not either, for that matter… Why do I find that so unsettling? It is not of my concern. I will be told when the need arises. That is how Heaven functions. Without compartmentalizing information there is chaos.

What information is not compartmentalized, however, is Sam’s relationship to the Demon Ruby. They have continued to see each other, and judging from her reaction it is very likely that she wishes to end their questionable agreement upon hearing that angels were responsible for retrieving Dean’s soul. This would have been ideal had Sam not told her to stay, to continue. More will have to be done in attempt to stop this, but not today. Sam looks concerned, but for more than the simple conversation that was exchanged. I cannot get closer without alerting the demon of my presence. Time will only be able to tell me more if I continue this expedition. I do not follow Sam back to the Singer residence.

Instead I return to Heaven to present my findings on the recent conversation between the younger Winchester and the demon, to add the information to what we already know about the recent events between the two in the last few months. It is troubling, but also curious, how he reacted to such exclamations. My superiors did not seem as invested in the idea that there must have been a deeper reason, therefore I must absolve these childish questions and focus on the current predicament. The witnesses are killing hunters, people that could not save them. At some point this will include Dean and his brother. That cannot happen.

I find the Winchesters again at a small station where it appears they refuel their cars. Sam had gone inside to relive himself it seems, but not before a witness followed him in. It was also the most ideal time to speak with Dean, even in slumber. This was also the first that I see dreams in the present. Angels do not dream—there is no need for sleep—therefore inserting oneself into such dreams is unknown territory. I resorted to simply waking Dean up. He must know that there is danger to sleeping. He was wary of seeing me, but I did not come to speak with him for other reasons. Sam was surely about to be subjected to torture if Dean did not get out of the car immediately. It took that much to make the statement into reality before I saw Dean run into the restroom area with a gun. I did not stay for the aftermath of the ordeal.

I was called back to Heaven and reprimanded for such an act. Why was I? I do not understand. There was a threat to Dean in the presence of the ghost attacking his brother, demon blood aside. Surely it was my duty to warn him… I did not understand the repercussions of my actions, but I did act without orders. Despite that, there was no physical consequence. Odd.

In lieu of this, however, I returned to overseeing, watching to see how Sam, Dean, and the older gentleman would fix the Rising of the Witnesses. At least they now know that is what we are dealing with. As I circled the house after Sam rescued the older gentleman, Bobby, from the two children and Dean had shot the woman in the upper floor, I noticed more ghosts crowding around the house. Hunters are exceptional targets for the witnesses to find, it seems, and judging by the fair number of them that are watching outside now Sam and Dean Winchester must have been through more than I was told to believe. What is curious is that no more manifested themselves or entered the house. They were not malevolent despite their abrupt raising. Peculiar, but not of import to the mission.

They enter what seems to be a heavily fortified room to protect themselves from the witnesses for a time. I cannot see entirely what is happening, therefore I bide my time. This seal is already broken with twenty other hunters already dead as a result. I will only interfere if needed, but it is not my place to do so.

A brief struggle ensued after the three exited the room, and after encountering multiple witnesses they did succeed to casting the counter spell to lay the ghosts to rest once and for all. At least no more hunters will perish due to Lillith’s actions.  

Once the men sleep for the night I enter Dean’s dreams, this time successfully and in control. I now understand the principle and I needed to speak with Dean privately without any possible interruption. It was time Dean knew what was going on. The witnesses were a seal we could not stop, and angels are dying. We are a limited force, therefore the more that Dean knows the better the entire force will be in stopping what is coming, in stopping Lucifer from returning to Earth free. This is the order that I am telling myself. It was not given to me in as much detail, but there is a bigger picture here, one that transcends both Dean and myself.

As expected, Dean is wary once more, more agitated at my lack of helping stop the witnesses. There was nothing that I could have done that would have aided in the battle contrary to what Dean might have thought. He may be under my supervision, but that does not mean I must fight every one of his battles. He will learn to know that; the more I attempt to explain after he asked about my Father the more annoyed he seemed to get, therefore I stopped. Time was being wasted bantering. I informed him of the seals, of the witnesses being one of many. Though he attempted to mask it, I could feel his anxiety. It only grew as I spoke about Lucifer. He wishes to not believe it. I cannot say that I blame him for reacting in this way, but at the same time I should not care about his reaction. Dean will understand the gravity of the situation. An angel’s mind does not work like a human’s. There is a plan to this, why this is happening. Dean must believe in it as I do, even if not all pieces are in place. It is the only faith that I have.

I leave him as such. There is no more than I can tell him now, but this is only beginning to get more difficult. Dean nearly died; he said it himself. That was too close to happen again, but I cannot be the one that helps him, not every time. This is beginning to get frustrating, not because of the situation, rather because I do not understand why I am dwelling on the subject.

I must focus on the plan. There is a bigger reason as to why this is all happening. I simply must await further orders.

 

End Report.

Castiel


	3. 4x03 In The Beginning

Report:

To think that time travel was such a phantasmagorical concept to humans is neither an idea I wish to understand or entertain, but this was deemed the best course of action so that Dean fully understand the gravity of his brother’s choice. He had to stop it, thus in order to do so Dean must be briefed. Once Sam had left the motel I made myself present so as to speak with Dean. If his dreams were any indication, however, there is still much that he wishes to hide.

more

To explain in detail upon beginning would have jeopardized Dean’s actions entirely once he was placed back in time, therefore I made the instructions simple enough so that Dean knew even a fraction of what was occurring, why he was being sent back. I told him my orders. From that point I was tasked with monitoring the situation, taking care that all pieces were placed where they should be and that Dean not stray from his mission. That did not seem to stop Dean from echoing confusion, regardless of how understandable it was. His interactions with his father in the diner were somewhat unexpected, but also very wise. To reveal himself to his father would not bode well for either party. John Winchester was not the goal of this, but he was the lead. Dean has grown accustomed to following these, making John the perfect choice. Despite that however I still needed to speak with Dean so that he knew just what had displaced him in 1973.

Implications of time aside, Dean was not particularly fond of having been pulled from his present time. I was going to discuss with him further, thinking it the best way for Dean to follow, but I was called back to Heaven without prior questioning. Zachariah did not approve my divulging that information, marking it unacceptable. His reasoning was logical, however:  Dean would only be more emotionally compromised after meeting his mother. To tell him now before later events transpired would inhibit the entire operation. Thus, I remained vigilant; watchful of any unknown entities doing the same while at the Whitshire Farm. Azazel had yet to know of our presence, but that does not mean we are not somehow giving off unknown signals. The past is just as present as a battleground is to war.

After Dean enters the house to meet his grandparents there was a small change. Dean misjudged my orders. He began to form his own plans. I suppose it is highly logical that Dean would think this was what he had to stop; the events of a past that shaped his present. But this is the course that will lead Dean to understanding, to seeing, even if it is painful. Destiny cannot be avoided or changed. It has already been written. He will see that in time.

The boundaries of love far exceed those of pain and war. Listening to Mary speak of hunting and wishing to be with John after Dean asked is a story that, while I may have been made aware of, I did not understand fully until now. The roads that have been paved were founded on nothing but loss for the Winchesters. John lost his way beginning with these events. It is a destiny that, seen now, feels cruel in many ways. But it is not my place to question or even give my opinion on the matter. These were the events that had to take place for the future to continue. Sam and Dean were simply just in the center of the vortex. That does not mean I did not see something unreadable shift in Dean after he finished his conversation with Mary.  This did not seem as if it would work well. I was only proven correct after Dean began driving to Colorado undoubtedly to recover the Colt.

I remained silent at first, only answering questions Dean would pose. I had already been made aware not to reveal to much too soon. These events had to take place the way they were written and without any further prodding. All that I can tell him is that if he does this change in his life, than all that they have worked towards will be for naught, all the lives saved will cease to live. Dean knows, but “he needs to save his family”. He cannot let them die knowing he could have done something to help.

Why? I simply not understanding the sentiment.  It is one thing to recognize the bonds of the others angels in my garrison, but another to make such a decision so selfishly in the hopes of bringing one back from the dead so as to not suffer the pain that caused that to begin with. And for love? After they had perished and one had already properly mourned them? After fate that had called for their time to leave? Loss is difficult yes, but to feel it in such a spike that warrants the need to change it while dismantling all that has happened because of it is far more complex. These are foreign human emotion, one not meant to be felt by angels. It simply does not makes sense to change the past when there has been so much done in the future because of the loss of Mary’s life. Yes, it may be saddening, but that does not mean it was not the catalyst for all that has happened. From what it seems to Dean, however, it does not make up for it. The life of one soul taken through a series of unfortunate circumstances far outweighs the lives of countless saved as a result of the actions of November 2nd. Dean does not want to see that loss again if he can help somehow, regardless of anything else. Humans are infuriatingly backwards.

But I could not say any of this. I had already strayed from this mission once. To do so again could be seen as defying orders. Being in the car was also unnerving and immobilizing. I had to leave and let the rest of the events play out as they were written and intended.

I watch Dean enter the house after Samuel and Mary fight Azazel, watch the exchange of words between Dean and Azazel in Samuel’s body.  Even despite Dean’s efforts, the past remained the same. I was barred from aiding, but that did not mean this was not painful to watch. Why was it painful?

Hearing Azazel speak of his plans, cryptic or otherwise, did allow for more pieces to be placed. There was a bigger plan taking place. That was what we had to figure out; that was what we needed Dean to help stop. This was what I was briefed on. This is what I should be focusing on as well, not the fact that Dean watched more of his family members die in front of him due to the very devil he would kill over 30 years later.

The events transpired without incident. Mary still made her deal to save the one man she loved. Dean was unable to stop more loss from occurring, even if it was still 6 years before he was meant to be born. . So many decisions that sparked this entire ordeal were made out of love, out of sacrifice, out of the need to keep some form of family together. Even if he needed to see this, there was still a shroud of pain cast over Dean. He undoubtedly believes that he is the cause of this cycle now, but this was destiny. Him being here or not did not matter. This was what he needed to know: the truth. Truth does not have a cover to hide under. It is open with all that is carries, more so when the items are blood and loss.

Bringing him back to the present was a heavier burden than anticipated. Why? This was fate; this was what had happened since the beginning. Dean’s soul only seems to feel heavier with the realization when it should feel the exact opposite. He gained understanding, did he not? Now he knew what needed to be done. Now he knew what he needed to stop. Every passing chance Sam leaves to consort with Ruby leads him down a darker path that is unforeseeable even to us. Dean is the only one capable enough to stop his younger brother, for if we intervene then Sam will not survive. The boy with the demon blood is not well regarded in Heaven, which is why I give Dean the address as well as relay the orders sent from above. Destiny is clouded to us, hiding from me what I should know about our chances. The seals are breaking with an unknown endgame. We need to stop it.

 

End.

Castiel


	4. 4x04 Metamorphosis

Report:

All logical steps after giving Dean the address in where his brother went meant to follow and observe, the goal being to see if Dean could truly stop his brother. All previous information would make it a favorable outcome, but the variables change with each scenario. We have no way of predicting if Dean truly can stop Sam’s activities, therefore an ultimatum had to be given. Dean watched the evidence played out before him, but his reactions were entirely his own. It was predicted in some, but not all, outcomes as to how this would occur in way of Dean’s conversation with Sam, but we still do not have all the information. Dean was more than angry with the entire situation. Attacking Ruby was not predicted.

Sam would attempt to justify his actions with the repercussions of his using his demonic powers, this was one of the few logical outcomes. Anger can be such a driving force behind human interactions. It is clouding both of their judgments, the Winchesters. Dean is threatening to leave entirely because of it. I have been instructed not to intervene, but Dean has to stop it, not retreat from it. The mention of my name into the conversation seemed very impactful, however. Sam is a man of faith; his prayers being heard nightly by those that wish to listen. It was a strategic move on Dean’s part, sharing that information, but it does not mean his erratic thoughts and fear are aiding in the manner. A phone call can change a line of questioning fairly quickly, I soon learned.

The Winchesters’ operation with regards to executing this particular case is said to be a reminder of when the brothers worked with their father, John Winchester. Fueled by previous events and the recent knowledge on their family lineage, however, this case was particularly more than what has been considered normal behavior for them. With every passing second this case became more of a metaphor for Sam’s current state than it did the wellbeing of those that could be harmed by one Jack Montgomery. It is a logical chain of events, backed up by years of testing the hypothesis in the viewpoint of the older man named Travis: Once they feed, they are no longer the human that they were. Hunters fight these creatures as a profession. There is no gray area because there are simply too many casualties and little time to allow for it. Angels carry the same base of ideas with the same reasons for having them. We follow orders so as to maintain balance. As soldiers of Heaven we are meant to protect what can bring harm to the souls of the Earth, monsters and creatures of the night included. Dean needs to stop his brother before this escalates any higher.

Even without acknowledging this gray area, however, Sam’s justifications hold truth in their own merit. Biology cannot be fixed or altered. But while it may not be Sam’s fault that he ingested demon blood that does not mean he should use these powers to begin with. From the darkness can only drive the person deeper, especially if the person begins to use it regardless of the intention. Sam ultimately saved his brother in the end by eliminating the threat, the monster that resulted from a simple gene difference. The lessons he learned this day will not leave him, but still there is a ring of doubt carved into the words he spoke to Dean after the deposition of the body. Humans are insufferable with their secrets… but I suppose angels are no better. Even we are only told that which we are meant to. It is meant to compartmentalize information with the idea of a bigger scope of the situation. My not knowing just why the seals are breaking entirely should not concern me. I should be ashamed for even thinking such a thing against my superiors. I have my own garrison to look after.

Regardless, for now it seems that Dean succeeded, even if by Sam’s voluntary surrender. This outcome was not predicted, but at this point there is very little that can be. 5 other seals have broken already. Time is not giving us the luxury of dwelling on these matters.

 

End.

 

Castiel

 

 


	5. 4x05 Monster Movie

Report:

With no further orders having been delivered, I assumed my normal task of surveillance. Preparations for the Apocalypse have begun to dwindle as more of my brothers and sisters are taken in the line of duty. There is still much to do, but we must be secret, for if the human world knew any more than what it has learned then chaos would erupt and hinder our efforts. Time is not on our side.

That does not stop the Winchesters from doing their specified job, however. A part of me wishes to understand more of how their minds managed to avert their attention from the task at hand, but that is not the purpose of my orders. Thus, I should not dwell on the subject. They have uncovered a string of murders in Pennsylvania during one of its most contagious seasons in way of the flow of human lives in and out of an establishment. They spoke with the sheriff on the matter before entering what appears to be a drinking service area. I merely watched from afar. They have no business knowing that I am here.

Dean speaks to one of the woman across the bar, a bartender named Jamie. What manner of speak Dean attempts to have with her is alien to me, though the woman seems to react unabashed. I can only assume it is customary somehow, regardless, Dean has never been said to play by any rules, which is what angers my superiors. I do not see any fallacy.

This entire town is rather unknown actually. Despite its vibrance in culture it is rather distorted in color. Could it have a connection to the murder to Marissa Wright? And as for Dean’s conversation about being re-hyminated after returning from Hell… what strange things that can come up in seemingly normal conversation. Is that normal? I should not dwell on such indescrepencies.

No matter, their interaction with this particular case is not out of the ordinary for them. Following Dean and assuring his safety is what is important, though that does not mean I should handle all of their battles. Dean’s alteraction with this… “Dracula” as it may, should be dealt with without my help unless absolutely needed. He did same the woman as well, and this drinking establishment is rather tasteful without so many people harboring its space.

         They do nothing but speak for a while, Dean and Jamie, Sam when he arrived at the scene, but I should not be naïve to think words cannot reveal more than which they say. After Sam left to speak with Mr. Brewer I stayed, watching over though I confess not out of concern. Hearing Dean speak of his newfound “mission” is the first that I have ever heard of his opinion on the subject. Yes, he has a mission… but what exactly is it? I have not been authorized to know, not yet. Why is that so unsettling? It never has been before.

… What is the true mission?

I should be chastised. It is blasphemy to question divine authority. I shall banish the thought.

I had left both Dean and the woman behind during these detrimental thoughts. It was careless of me to do so, for they were taken by the true shapeshifter without my immediate knowledge. This could pose trouble.

Finding them was simple enough. While I am not to interfere, the poison in Dean’s system did justify my intervening in the situation to bring him to consciousness. How and when he was clothed differently I do not know, but I stayed to hear his conversation with the shapeshifter. There seemed to viable way out of this situation without interference after the creature threatened electrocution. Without revealing myself I sensed the presence of a man delivering food outside. I guided him to the door quickly through rather brisk pushes and rang the bell, effectively guiding the creature’s attention away from Dean’s peril. It was the most I could do without fully revealing myself. The man delivering the pizza only added to the prolonged conversation, enough for me to return and disconnect the electricity from the panel should the creature return and wish to electrocute Dean.

Freeing him would be to reveal myself, but buying more time would be to guide the creature to where the woman was regaining consciousness. In that time Sam would be able to come for Dean, though not before Dean would attempt to free himself. I watched him do so, pull against the straps, have them go slack before repeating the motion. His struggle was oddly intriguing. In a colorless world he continued to fight, not because he believed in any particular thing but rather because he now saw this chance as a rectification that he had been doing the right thing his entire life. It appears my Father knew more than he deemed necessary to tell his children regarding him, but not enough to have more than one angel assigned to him.

… This conversation is getting me nowhere.

Dean’s bonds stretched slightly, but not enough to break. Sam was able to arrive in order to completely free him. Both Winchesters manage to find the shifter, but it was the woman, Jamie, that was the one to deliver the final blow to the creature’s heart. It was Beauty that killed the Beast. How poetic.

This entire hunt has been enlightening for me. In this world where we are tasked to oversee humans in our charge we have not once been told to ask the questions that they do, so see life as an idea of time as opposed to an eternity. Dean speaks of Sam and his life as a mission now, no longer the burden it once was… What does that mean for me?

I must stop. Stop these nonsensical ideas. It is of no import what they apply to if they have no place with my orders. That is my mission. I should only see it that way.

But if that were the case, why do I think otherwise?

End.

Castiel


	6. 4x06 Yellow Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this one was fun.

Report:

A Yorkshire was never bred to seem intimidating… But perhaps they possess a quality of strength that far exceeds their miniscule size. Human manipulation of a domesticated animal must exceed my current expectations…

Uriel spoke that he was needed to seek revelation, therefore I had no member of my garrison with me for this event. No form of back up can spark unease in even the most veteran of our forces, but it appears that this particular scenario seemed to echo that which was occurring. An unknown parallel, thus, must be considered, though I have no way of knowing its true purpose. There are already sparking rumors concerning my intentions. I cannot extend these fantasies into more than what they are. No, I must continue to oversee; thus, I will continue this report unconscious of intentional error.

Regardless of recent events it appears the Winchesters are no strangers to perilous situations, specifically finding themselves entrapped and unable to break free of binding curses; this particular case is no exception. For a man that has seen and handled an unknown amount of deceased corpses of all varieties, Dean’s uneasiness in holding a human heart was the first indication that something had infected him. At that point I had no further information beyond that to move forward with.

Dean’s state only deteriorated with every passing hour. I was unaware snakes could scent the fear radiated by those around them, but considering snakes are the manifestation of evil that drove Adam and Eve out in the legends of old it would make logical sense. Even in these preliminary stages Dean is radiating the very essence of uncertainty, fear sparking with every heartbeat.

He spent the night in his coveted vehicle, an action that, while I have noticed in the past, I cannot say I did not understand completely until now. I can only assume it to be his safe haven, though he did not sleep in the slightest. Every sound sparked his interest, more in fear than curiosity. He needed to calm down if he wished to live through the 24 hours that he had left. I could not allow for him to not sleep in some regard, therefore while I could not stop this “ghost sickness,” I could very well attempt to slow it down. Giving Dean the ability to sleep was the only thing I could do without revealing myself, for if Dean were to see me now I suspect would scare him far more than I would like to admit, be it out of fear of the divine or fear of that which he has yet to know. Regardless, he needed sleep. I merely gave him a few hours to do so before Sam returned.

All three victims shared a personality type, though not a very pleasant one. I suppose the sickness is not wrong in choosing its victims. Dean only seems more petrified with every passing second. Every being within a few miles will begin to sense it soon enough. Barriers must be set.

Going to the lumber yard did not aid these emotions in the slightest. If I could sense them so strongly then others will begin to as well. Restless souls spark their emotions, making them receptive to any form. Dean is like a beacon. I followed them with my weapon in hand in the event that they are surprised.

Instead I nearly stabbed a feline that caused an unholy screamed to erupt from Dean.

It was not one of my brightest moments. The cat yielded no information either.

…

This mission the Winchesters are on does not seem to be likely of being won with every passing hour. After they spoke with the older brother of one Luther Garland I could not help but take his words of fear into consideration. Misinformation sparks fear. Fear sparks chaos. Chaos leads to destruction. Should I not, as a result, have a right to know just what it beyond the 66 seals? Over twenty have broken already, 13 of which I am confident that we could have saved. Why, then, are we not positioning all of our forces in the remaining stations? Rather, the ones that we are certain are the most vulnerable. Surely there is a reason…. There has to be.

That does not stop my fear from sparking, however.

Frank was a pillar of this community, killing Luther out of an action of fear. Is it possible that Heaven could be the same? No. This is blasphemy. My orders are divine Word. These are traitorous thoughts. I am ashamed to dare even think of that analogy. If angels could get infected, then perhaps I am beginning to feel such symptoms of this sickness as well. Yes, that must be the reason. In any case it only adds to the growing need for Sam to finish this case. I cannot be of help. It would be unwise.

I must assume I have been adjacently affected.

Dean was left in the motel room, attempting to calm down even if it was unlikely. Hallucinations have already begun, making me question my reality as well due to my being able to see them just as clearly. A dead sheriff and a broken motel are rather difficult to fabricate without angel intervention. Am I affecting Dean’s hallucinations then? No, this is the fear of the unknown speaking. Dean’s ailments are his own. I am just merely an observant due to his being attached to me. That must be it…

Less than 10 minutes remain before the remaining hours have ended. Which signifies that these could very well be the final minutes of Dean’s life. I need to prolong this for Sam. He will need as much time as possible should Dean be able to survive. What if Sam does fail then? The raising of Dean from the bowls of perdition, the surveillance to make sure he would not perish before he was needed, the need for both brothers to continue to live so as to kill Lilith… what if that was all for naught?

This is my own fear speaking. This is my infection. No, there is a reason. Dean cannot die.

That realization does not help as much as I would have liked it to.

He never asked for angels to intervene… never asked for me to raise him. Does he then… wish that I never found him torturing those souls. Should I have never met him?

…

My thoughts were abruptly halted, my own sickness fighting itself off.

Because he grabbed the bible then. He began to pray.

And he prayed to me.

Dean only prayed my name before Lilith’s hallucination stopped him, before he could say anything, but it was enough to fight off these unknown energies, it was enough for me to realize just what was happening and how to slow it. Sam needed more time, and Dean would not die.

Fortunately, it was just enough time. Dean, a second from death, was free of the sickness. Myself as well, giving me the ability to cure Dean of his ghost-ridden scabs on his arms and repair any damage done to his heart. It was over. Fear lost.

Watching the brothers speak with the man named Bobby after that, how Dean did not tell Sam the entirety of what had transpired in those hallucinations, it was a message to me as well, albeit an unintentional one. In this world, it is nearly impossible to tell truth from fiction. That is a lesson I have begun learning myself in light of recent events I am afraid. To decipher just what is a true mission from that which we have been fed here…. it is a hallucination in and of itself as well?

Fear is the fever with no cure but realization. I cannot help but wonder just what that entails for me.

 

End.

Castiel

 

 


	7. 4x07 It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

Report.

         We have received new orders, ones that I pray go the way that I wish for them to. This out of context human holiday known as Halloween will be treacherous and dangerous should Samhain rise, yes, but it will only be disastrous should the entire town be obliterated. In either case, Uriel was tasked as my second for this mission. I made sure he knew just what our true orders were to him: Tell Dean Winchester that they must stop Samhain at all costs, including the annihilation of a small suburban town full of human souls. Though it is meant to be a test for him, I cannot help but wonder Heaven’s true intentions. To blatantly disregard our Father’s creation in the way that was suggested… It is absurd. I only pray that Dean fight against the orders.

         They arrived in the town as expected, investigating the witch that was to blame for the ritual blood sacrifices. We could not aid them due to the witch’s power. Her age must have allowed for her to find a way to obscure herself form even angels. We could not find her anywhere, even while in plain sight. It was infuriating. And while on the matter, the notion of candied pieces meant to be given out on a day where children were once meant to be indoors for safety is an entirely backwards, illogical way of celebration of a holiday. That is besides the point.

         After the second ritual took place Uriel and I went to the vacated room the Winchesters had been residing in, sure that their attention to the case had made them the most likely targets for the last ritual. We found two hex bags in time as a result, one behind the walls that surrounded the area, and one underneath Dean’s bed. Uriel wished to make quick work of the town then, angered by the sluggish progression of the Winchesters. I ordered him to wait and to cease his unsupportive candor then. There must be a reason as to why we were given these orders even if they were as divine as they were.

         Sam Winchester’s greeting us with a gun I suppose was to be expected. It would be the first time we would formally face one another no matter how often Dean would speak of angels and myself. His demeanor changed quickly after that, and I did catch his silent prayer of apology for having “sprung a gun on an angel.” He seems to have a good soul, even if it has been twisted by the demon blood he had no choice but to bear. It was only for the better that he stopped, thankfully. This I told him.

         But this would also be where the divine plan would be ingrained. Dean must believe that we are speaking the truth, which we were to a degree. We concealed our true orders and offered the substitute to him. My prayers were answered when he refused to leave. This town did had the potential to be saved after all.

         Uriel was not content however. Even despite our true orders he bordered on disobeying. In the small amount of time that I have surveyed the Winchesters, however, I have learned that Dean is only a strategist up to a point of two or three moves ahead. In this particular case his ultimatum did aid his conviction to telling us to stand down, but it now left him defenseless and with a deflated ego in Uriel’s eyes. Those in the higher ranks have already spoken of rumors consisting of an overseer for me. If Uriel was that person, I could do nothing should he wish to interfere with Dean or his brother. Regardless, his move now, though short-sighted, did spare the town for at least a few hours so that they may tend to the witch. At least they have found the witch responsible, something even we have not been able to do.

         I had to continue the test, however, to see just how far his faith would lead him. When he began to question our orders I could not help but counter with the very same orders of his father. That must have been what drove him to the ultimatum in the end I suspect. As far as a wrong order, however, he did not know then how far his words rang true.

         But Dean had given his orders. We were meant to obey, therefore we left them to tend to the witch. There is a reason we were sent to pull him from the pits of Hell. He could very well succeed in stopping this seal. So many have broken already. Far too many than I thought Heaven would ever allow.

Uriel would not cease in his belittling of the human race however during our standby. Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. Uriel is bordering on blasphemy with his words if God’s very intention was to make his creations a mirror of the angels. Dean has called us “dicks” before. Perhaps humans are meant to be our opposite. Uriel has no faith in humanity. He is beginning to speak like the very one we are attempting to prevent from rising from his cage to begin with. I, on the contrary, am beginning to believe I should take my own advice on the concept of faith.

We waited until past nightfall, watching the children in decorative masks and other costumes make their way to different houses. If it were not for the fact that a seal had been broken I would almost have liked to stay to watch. Human customs, especially this one, was an extended and over-proportionate form of the one that it is supposedly based off of.

Uriel felt the seal break before I had I must admit. He disappeared despite my protest against it. We were told to stand down, yet he chose to move forward. I must confess at the time that even my own faith was being shaken. What if neither brother will be able to stop Samhain before he rises the dead fully?

These are difficult times, even more ahead. I cannot second guess every decision I make. If I am having trouble with these, then I can only imagine what Dean will experience when the time comes.

Effectively, Samhain was killed before he could do further damage, but the seal had already been broken. Uriel would continue to bicker and fret about this far longer than I wish to hear it, but we were to follow orders. We were to follow Dean. He does not know if his actions here were for better or for worse. I cannot say for him either.

We spoke in the park after, once we had made sure that Samhain would not rise again. I told him our true orders as they were given, but I also found myself confiding in him. Dean Winchester was meant to be brought back for a reason yet unclear to me, and yet as he is in my charge I feel as if I am the one being purposely thrown in the shadows as to just why that is. If I am to make sure that he is the one to stop Lucifer’s rising, should the best course of action, thus, be to tell me just how best to execute that plan? Heaven is in flux, therefore I cannot help but wonder if my faith is the one wavering or my reasoning is the one rising.

I did not lie to Dean then. I do not know what is just and what is not, but this town is still standing, still able to see more of the world before the uncertain future takes over. I am grateful Dean chose the way he had, because humans are not meant to only be seen and then banished. They have a life that they make for themselves, that they are able to see and feel even without knowing the outcome of tomorrow. They make choices they think are right even if the resulting outcome is less than desirable. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps that is not the better option than blind following.

But some choices are far more difficult than others, perhaps impossible to make. Those are the ones yet to be made by Dean himself when the time comes I suspect. I do not envy that particular choice.

 

End.  
Castiel


	8. 4x08 Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you look closely, Cas starts questioning love and its effect on the soul. Wonder what that's referring to...

Report:

I was unaware of the medical track that considered the well-being of toy bears. A specific form of veterinarian of a sufficient enough rank would likely be the only working explanation I would assume. Humans and their varying iterations of coveted imitation animals is, frankly speaking, entirely unfavorable. One would not want a bear of any sort within any close proximity of a child, and yet this one, Audrey, would sleep with her chosen animal. How she is still alive can only be attributed to her assigned angel.

A wish is very advanced and dangerous magic. It is never to be trifled with so carelessly and has been used maliciously in countless areas in the past. Depending on its complexity it can be partially to completely immune to any form of angelic intervention. The only way to undo the most powerful of magical spells would be divine intervention of the highest command, something that cannot be done trivially and frequently. The Winchesters would have to fair for themselves in this particular instance. Concrete, Washington, is not known for this kind of supernatural behavior, though the culprit was quickly located after initial surveillance of the area. It only took Sam and Dean slightly longer to understand the scope of what was occurring and just what object was to blame.

Audrey’s parents were stranded in Bali, unable to return home when Sam and Dean went to find the unwell bear and its keeper. It was only a shame that Dean also made a wish on this cursed well. Finding him while in the midst’s of his expelling of the abominable sandwich was not a pleasant sight, nor would it be for any being I would go so far as to say. He did not enjoy my arrival at the bathroom door of the motel either, cursing my name in between waves of nausea.

I attempted to aid Dean, try to stop the vomiting, but the magic had to run its course in order for the coin to be sated. This was extremely potent, deep magic. I could not be of any more help beyond giving Dean the information he needed while he was… occupied. The coin was of Babylonian origins, it’s original owners having become heirs to the throne before the coin drove the entire kingdom to chaos, leaving nothing but destruction and pain in its wake. This story I told to Dean through the barrier that was the bathroom door. Dean did not wish for me to see him any more than I already had. Apparently I have what is referred to as “personal space issues.”

That is not of import to this mission, but I have been made aware.

Dean quickly asked me to leave after that, but not before I spoke with him about Uriel and Sam’s conversation. We both knew the extent of what Dean had suffered. No human can possibly withhold that much pain for long. I returned to my overseeing post soon after that, letting the brothers take on this case alone. I had helped enough without arising too much suspicion, but there has already been rumors about my loyalties. I cannot allow for it to go any further.

They found and spoke to the original “wisher” a man named Wes that wished for love. It was confusing, listening to his story. Love is a human emotion that angels were never meant to understand, therefore we never did. How it drove a man to such lengths as to drive his town into near ruin for the sake of a woman is incomprehensible… I need to understand. Perhaps there is a connection somewhere.

No angel came to aid when Sam was struck by lightning, losing consciousness and nearing death quickly with every slowing heartbeat. I nearly interfered when the boy nearly choked Dean to death, but I could not due to Uriel’s sudden appearance by my side, his eyes almost calculating. There is something that I am not aware of but I cannot show favoritism. Dean was on his own. Had it not been for the original wisher’s pulling the coin from the well I do not know what would have happened. The very idea of that I must confess frightened me.

It was for naught, however. The wishes were reversed and Dean and Sam were still alive after the chaos. They had succeeded even after it had seemed as if they had failed. Even the little girl Audrey’s parents returned from Bali and Hope lost all memory of the last month of her life. Human relations were once again put back in balance.

I did not stay close to them after they had left the Concrete, Washington, Sam and Dean. It seemed Dean yielded to my advice, if only ever so slightly. Sam now knows that Dean remembers as much as he wished he did not. It is enough, for now, for Dean’s memories to be sated. But nightmares are very real in the bowels of hell, and Dean was no stranger to the very torture that they inflict upon him posthumously. The road to chaos is paved with good intentions, especially in the context of what is currently happening. I can only pray that there are no more mishaps and that seals cease to break.

Unfortunately, I do not think my wish will come true.

End.

Castiel


	9. 4x09 I Know What You Did Last Summer

Report:

  
I am being scrutinized.

  
My recent events and unauthorized guidance has placed me in a perilous state with my superiors. I had thought it to be a trivial matter that would not be pursued, and should it have been I would have been adequately prepared to disbar any sort of declarations against my faith. The truth of the matter, however, is that I am unsure of any matter at the moment. These are no longer reports to Heaven. These are my thoughts and will remain thus far to be my thoughts alone.

  
Uriel watches me with more insistence with every passing day. He no longer trusts in me after the events of Concrete, Washington. He continues to not believe in our Father’s creations and their potential, gathering closer to blasphemy with every phrase but withholding enough so that he is not equally placed in the same veil of investigation that I am beginning to find myself in. Anna’s recent resurfacing has only hastened this matter entirely.

  
She had hid from us well for nearly twenty human years, a truly rare feat that could be deemed remarkable in different circumstances. She was the head of my garrison before myself, commanded with pride and passion, a level of emotion unheard of for any angel apart from Lucifer himself. That was her hubris, unfortunately, though not in the same regard as it was my brother’s. Anna grew fond of humans and would often speak of the ones in her charge, relaying information that was not necessarily a mandatory issue to her superiors in her reports. She grew to understand them on a far deeper level, and thus she fell and I became the designated leader.

  
I am beginning to believe that those in my charge, both angel and human, are cursed with this cycle of fate.  
Her resurfacing could not have come at both a far worse time or the best possible time, for while I very much wished to speak with her again now, I cannot without revealing more than I am willing to give. The inevitable order came just a few days prior to us having found her. Anna had to perish for having forsaken that which is holy. It was a miracle that she survived without our detection in my opinion, though to others it was deemed a curse for her having had the ability to live among humans, becoming one herself. There was a greater picture at hand here, a war that was about to be waged. To have a rogue angel be captured an divulge secrets, especially one of Anna’s caliber, would mean certain doom far greater than the apocalypse. There are far over 600 seals, but many can be broken with the use of an angel. Having Anna come back only certified her need to perish, both as justice for her crime and as a safeguard for Heaven.

  
It was cruel.

  
No, it is cruel–beyond cruel–but I cannot stand aside. We are meant to be saviors, meant to serve and protect God’s creations. To hunt down one of our own in this manner, after such a long portion of time and only to kill her instead of reinstate her. It is terrible, unworthy, blasphemy, punishingly cruel.

  
Sam and Dean were the ones to have found her, how remains to be determined on my account, but that does not stop the fact that this entire situation is proving to be extremely difficult, far more than the simple matter once was. I cannot protect the Winchesters should they intervene with Anna’s capture, not this time. It pains me to write that, but the entire situation is out of my hands completely. Zachariah explicitly stated it. To use a phrase I have heard very often in recent events, “It is driving me nuts.”

  
Anna knows that we have found her, she knows that the angels are coming. I can only hope that this somehow does not go in the angels’ favor.

  
I am being scrutinized, and unfortunately it is for very good reason. Anna must die.

  
End.  
Castiel


	10. 4x10 Heaven and Hell

Report:

         To have a heart would mean to have a conscience, something I have come to realize only exists with a soul and human emotion. In effect, angels truly are heartless, because otherwise they would care. Dean was entirely justified in his statement. Anna was a remarkable leader, and this is how Heaven repays her: the death penalty. And here I stand, in a fork in a road I do not wish to traverse. Unfaithfulness is synonymous to death, but likewise death is only the most lenient of sentences for angels. I cannot give my stance without subjecting myself to the same fate as Anna, therefore I must refrain from speaking at all.

         Uriel instigated the brawl that ensued not too soon after the conversation. My task was to retrieve Anna who I had assumed would be hidden from initial viewing. My steps only faltered when a sigil was enacted. It appears that Anna remembers her training despite not knowing who and what she truly was. She was a very high level angel, however.

         We returned to the cabin as quickly as Uriel pushed us too, my subordinate too appalled of our expulsion to question any sort of idea the Winchesters must have moved here. Effectively enough Anna was moved, and it was made clear she was listening to the conversations of Heaven. All communications ceased briefly as a result, but that does not mean we attempted to listen to Anna’s communication. That was how we learned of her regaining her knowledge of her true origins. This only hastened our search to regain Anna’s lost grace, an item I knew the general location of due to having been present when Anna was cast from Heaven.

         She was my superior, Anna, an angel of the high command that shared a deeper connection with those in her garrison from a combat solider perspective. Granted, an angel’s death was mourned by all, but an angel’s death in Anna’s garrison was an even deeper wound that no one knew how to heal in Anna. She would speak of humans in distaste at first, having watched them for over two thousand years and never interacting. I dare to say I did not begin to fathom that amount of pain until very recently. It was only after a generation that Anna began observing humans and reporting back rather miscellaneous information, items of a particular human’s day or a change in the weather that affected a family’s lives. Angels were meant to serve, but they were not meant to relate. Anna’s curiosity got the best of her as a result, and thus she fell… but not without sharing these thoughts with myself, her second in command.

         Anna and I share a history, and as I have expressed in the past that does not make this role that I am forced to play any easier.

         Uriel found and retrieved Anna’s grace, thus making her acquisition of it only more arduous. I could do nothing but stand aside, choosing my words carefully to Uriel’s heated debates on needing to find Anna. We received revelation then on our next order, the ultimatum that would be placed to Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight or we hurl him back into damnation. A strategy, but whether or not it was a false ultimatum was not my knowledge to have. Regardless, the ultimatum did not seem to work from what I understood, but I was scanning the area of Anna’s last known sighting when Uriel returned just past midnight. We had found Anna.

         What I later learned was that we found her after Uriel’s threat to Dean about Sam’s life, a demon deal with no good option, only the death of an angel. This senseless killing, brutal lies, and strategic plays are all for what? For the death of an angel that wished to care? An angel that wished to have a heart? Anna is not Lucifer. They are separate cases.

         But none of this I could say you understand.

         The deal had been made, and with it, it seems, an entirely different relationship I had no knowledge of. A moment of intimacy is shared, one I have associated with human traditions of courtship, only this seemed far less romantic in nature, almost as if Anna was attempting to send a message. Why would she do such a thing? There is no point in the act, is there?

         Of course there is. Anna has learned to care. There is an emotional response there that I have never known—perhaps that I will never know. To be human is to have a heart, and angels are not human.

         Orders are orders.

         Just before Anna is served the fate Heaven has given her, demons arrive, Ruby in their grasp. We have been found out, a battle set before us with possibly dangerous casualties. Uriel and I had to fight. I attempted to expel the leader of the group, but I was met with a powerful resistance unlike any other. I could not expel this powerful demon, and had it not been for Dean, I would have perished. Anna managed to regain her grace, fleeing our attempts to apprehend her and gone in the wind. We have been defeated.

         I would assume it customary for Dean to have confronted us about our loss, our need to finish off this rogue angel. Uriel’s outburst had to have been stopped, otherwise I am not sure if I would have attempted to save him in true honesty. I approved of none of this, but at the same time I also could not disobey Heaven’s direct orders. Having Anna flee our grasp was as close to a sentence of freedom right now, something I would take as a victory. Anna chose her life, she chose with free will and emotion.

         It is a time like the present in which I cannot help but wonder if I were to make the same choice would I have been in Anna’s position. Watching these humans interact, create bonds that run far deeper than simply cordial agreements, to have a family that does require a military barrack—To live a life filled with emotion, both for better or for worse. As an angel we are meant to be soldiers, cold, detached, stoic. But is that truly the best way?

         I cannot feel because I was never meant to. My heart does not beat the way my vessel’s—the way Jimmy Novak’s—does. I am beginning to wonder what I would do in order to feel anything, anything at all. Perhaps I am beginning to.

 

End.

Castiel


	11. 4x11 Family Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few episodes are filler, so I filled in what Cas might've been doing or thinking about during the episodes while still keeping to the theme of that respective episode. So for this one it was humans, surprises, and jumping to conclusions. How family remains, but the question of family hangs in the air for Sam, Dean, and Cas.

Report:

To jump to a conclusion is to dive into oblivion. There are far more possibilities to a problem then there are solutions to an answer. This is where I find myself today as Uriel is tasked with searching for Anna’s whereabouts, my inability to detach and search of my own accord evident by our orders from my superiors. I am being kept under surveillance, an idea I find mildly infuriating and growing with every passing day. More seals have already fallen and the Winchesters are nowhere to be found. Their last sighting was reported to be in Nebraska, but I was not charged with overseeing their latest endeavors. Instead there was the search and protection of as many possible seals as we could reach. We were failing miserably. It has been this way for over a month’s worth of time now and shows no signs of halting at any moment.

There are ghosts, paranormal activities, creatures of the night, and humans. All can carry both their faults and their strengths, which is why it is best to know all possible scenarios before going through with a task. This is Heaven’s way, but it is not considering the scenarios that involves Heaven being wrong.

Balthazar came under my command once more during the month, his timing impeccable with my scrutiny. There are themes best left to the imagination, but that does not stop this entire conspiracy with Heaven brewing in my mind. Balthazar was an angel whose mind was not the same as others, quick lipped and ready with a reply, he was always on the others’ nerves, but he was my confidant with this information. For all his faults, Balthazar seemed to understand. He knew Heaven was not what it once was. There is something that we are purposefully not being made aware of.

The Winchesters were still in Nebraska as I later learned from Balthazar, but in the same amount of time Anna contacted me through revelation. I know where she is, but I am not divulging the information. Why am I not doing that? Not even Balthazar knows; my garrison is deprived of the necessary information. I am no leader… but what am I meant to be leading them to? The Apocalypse? It’s prevention?

Uriel continually undermines the humans we are meant to serve but never goes so far as to disobey a direct order. I am still under surveillance, but if that is what needs to be done then so be it. I still am loyal, still am faithful to Heaven. There may be a something that I am not being made aware of, but I cannot voice my opinion. A ghost or a human, neither is true. It is the faults a creature that can lead to its undoing. 

Sam and Dean are no longer in Nebraska, but there has been a shift between them. Sam now knows the entire truth about Dean’s role in Hell; the torture that he suffered to have caused him to become the shell of the human that was meant to stop the Apocalypse. But are angels not at beings with fault as well? Surely not. We were always spoken to with divine authority. If we have faults, then we are not divine…

The more I repeat that phrase in my mind the more I feel it falsify.

There is something that I do not know, but will I know in time?

 

End.

Castiel

        


	12. 4x12 Criss Angel is a Douche Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler of sorts, but it's solely on Cas and his mindset and roughly influenced by the episode.

Report:

            34 seals have broken. I attempted to save the last one in Boulder City, Nevada, where reports spoke of a demon ritual using newborn children. I was alone in my endeavors; no other angel was sent to protect the seal despite it having been deemed of most importance. No angel answered the call except myself. It is all entirely too wrong to make sense. We are angels, yet why was all but one present in defending a sacred seal? It broke because there was no force, no ounce of hindrance. What caused Zachariah and the other superiors to question the importance of this specific one?

            I am beginning to see that we are fighting a losing war; over half of the required seals have been demolished in a matter of months. There is something underlying Heaven’s entire operation and the locks on Lucifer’s cage weaken by the hour. There is no illusion to be made, no trick meant to obscure. This was reality, and reality was becoming nightmare far too quickly.

            There is perfunctory magic and there is real magic. One is meant to entertain while the other is known to destroy. As angels we are well versed in incantations and rituals of the sort in order to combat them effectively, and yet we have constantly found ourselves losing seals to witches, rituals, and magic we are meant to be able to overcome. None of this makes sense. What am I missing that Heaven is withholding from us? To let so many seals break so quickly and without struggle is to suggest there is an alternate plan. Surely it could not be to set Lucifer free entirely…

            No. I must cease these thoughts. Doubt is a root that I must stop being watered. There are bigger wars at stake.

            Uriel continues to object to my orders, implanting his own suggestions as if he expects for me to not see the betrayal in his words. My subordinates have begun to question orders from all ranks, their concerns mirroring my own in regard to the seals. I wish this were not the case, but Heaven is losing hope. The angels that are tasked to protect do not see any alternative but the one that Lilith and her comrades are making reality. Revelation yields no answers. God has not shown himself. He is silent in His world’s darkest moments.

            The last known sighting of the Winchesters had them attending a magic convention, presumably on a case. If only this were that simple. We are meant to be magicians of our own right, angels; the ones tasked with performing miracles and serving Heaven and all creation. Not even magic can heal these wounds we find ourselves inflicting by not treating. We are the ones casting the illusions onto ourselves for even thinking we are winning.

            Nuns have gone berserk in convents, waterway systems have been contaminated with ritual-induced chemicals, entire towns have been destroyed by seemingly natural occurrences. All were seals that have broken, and yet even now here I am, in a hotel watching Sam and Dean get arrested for attempting to help prevent death. The magician had bested them, just as the demons are besting us. We are running in circles thinking the finish is merely a few turns away.

            One of the man, the perpetrator responsible for the deaths, has claimed imortality. How little he knows of the concept to still claim to want it. Angels were meant to be immortal, but now they are dying. Dozens of my brothers and sisters have perished, more than have been lost since the beginning of the crusades. We were meant to protect from death, to protect from the havoc we have already wrought, and yet when one lives through every possibly imagined disaster one realizes that there will never be an end to the imagination of how much worse it can be. Apocalypse is very much looking to be the last stand, with myself and a few choice others in my charge the only army left standing. We are against the magicians now, battling their illusions with spells of our own. Uriel may claim to know more than myself, but I refuse to believe I would not be informed about our procedure unless there was explicit reason: divine reason.

            My brain is scrambling with questions, going from one viewpoint to the other and returning to the first. I am loyal to Heaven… but is heaven loyal to me?

 

End.

Castiel


	13. 4x13 After School Special

Report:  
         I have lived a terribly long life. To merely speak in a concept humans are capable of understanding does not lend itself to the true aspect of a life that spans eternity. There was no concept of school, no concept of making a grade or meeting the demands of one that wishes to cause harm. There was only order and accomplishing said order. I have no concept of a life like that of a human child. We were not brought up identically in the slightest, simply just under the idea that we are meant to serve, not truly live. It is traitorous to even say that and yet here I find myself. Perhaps Dean was right when we spoke last, more than I led myself to believe before. More seals have broken and we have no leads to steer our investigation. Angels are perishing far too frequently. I am losing too many brothers and sisters to continue to think that there is nothing I am being purposely blinded from. It is for that very reason that I have been questioned about my intentions about maintaining my surveillance on Earth, about monitoring the actions of the Winchesters perhaps too closely that no other angel would otherwise. Wayward actions lead to unexpected results, and unexpected was never a word meant to be taken lightly, especially in Heaven.

         I am being monitored as closely as ever, my moves calculated and taken, a robot without surveillance and yet still functioning. This is not how it should be.

         There was a sighting of Anna in Albuquerque, New Mexico, but I was not one tasked with surveillance or apprehending her. I instead went to Fairfax, Indiana. There was no task, no order that barked for me to do so. I merely went and observed, lost in memories of when I would be stationed on Earth and yet not meant to do more than simply listen to the question of humanity without being able to supply answers. It is a school of thought I was never allowed to enroll, my role instead attempting to teach that which I believed I understood, yet in reality I knew nothing. I still know nothing. Therefore, here I am, watching over. There is an impending Apocalypse, seals that are not being saved, and a structured game I have a very little chance in winning.

         This… this concept of choice? I never realized what little I had of it prior, what little I thought I knew of this world. There are cracks in Heaven. I refused to acknowledge them. Uriel is speaking of uprising and no superior is abstaining. We are on the brink of war, and not the one we were thought to be fighting.

         But here I am, in a suburban school in Fairfax, Indiana, watching the dissipation of a ghost and carrying him to a corrupt Heaven. Choices, it seems, can have adverse effects when one is not in control. I am beginning to force myself to see that.

         I am being summoned by Heaven. There has been a revelation. New orders, but what will they entail?

 

End.

Castiel


	14. 4x14 Sex and Violence

Report:

         I have been demoted… of sorts. Uriel is now my superior, therefore I must listen to his authority before I am to execute orders. I am no longer as trusted as I once was, a very troubling thought but not one that I had not already predicted. This was a likely scenario, but that does not mean I am willingly accepting of it.

         He has made sure I am accounted for at all moments of any given hour, either sent out in reconnaissance, or seeking revelation at unjust hours when my help could be used in other manners. I am not able to look for Sam and Dean, but I am assured “they are being sought to.” This is infuriating. I have attempted to cloud my suspicions, to arraign my doubts. It appears I have failed in even that. “Castiel is no longer in charge,” as Uriel had put it to the angels in my—his lead. No angel seemed not particularly pleased, but that does not mean I did not see nods in understanding as to why the change had been made. There was nothing more that I could do but follow orders, be a soldier of heaven once more.

         When there are orders regarding the protection of seals, Uriel attempts to combat the force with minimal effort, instead choosing the blood of a sacrificial human over the loss of another life. In his eyes it is a fair assumption. In mine it is sacrilege. We are meant to protect humanity, not willingly lead them to slaughter. We are meant to prevent the Apocalypse, is that not what we are fighting this war for?

         My words are no longer taken in context anymore. Heaven has refrained from answering my direct prayers to my superiors… God has not yet shown any sign of understanding or potential lead either, but unfortunately that is not as recent as other events. Instead I have spent the last week in the refuge of those angels that do not acknowledge Uriel as their new leader, rather instead as one that has simply taken over due to public order. They see the order and acknowledge it, but some are more willing to help than others. We are no longer one unit under God, we are angels looking to prolong our lives. All the while there is the impending threat of our brother’s hellfire return weighing on us. More seals have broken, and the rumors that are spreading do not aid in our finding which ones will be broken further. They are impending sirens, luring us to false prophecies and failure. We are the sailors under a captain that has ceased to care about the ship’s precious cargo.

         We are dying under a silent scream, each voice lessening in volume with every lock that falls of Lucifer’s cage. I need to find Sam and Dean, there needs to be a way for me to enact orders and still speak with them.

         One such rumor has risen that has some merit, a small town has found no activity of demise within the last week, a supernatural sign that speaks of a potential seal being broken. I will have to proceed with this information carefully and without raising suspicion. If Uriel wishes to come then so be it, but I must find a way to continue to work without being held back.

 

End.

Castiel


	15. 4x15 Death Takes a Holiday

Report:

Rumors of demons lurking in the area and Alastair’s appearance has given reason for my jurisdiction to be in Wyoming where a small town has been without death for longer than what is customary. Those that reside in the town are calling it a miracle. How far from the truth they could be…

I asked to be alone in this mission, though with what little use words are in application to me anymore I question why I bothered to do such a thing at all. Regardless, I kept to myself, searching the town and retracing my steps in the event that I was indeed being followed. My suspicions were proven true after a man had been shot with a pistol and survived. Another angel had come to search the scene as well, but not before leaving just as quickly, the matter it seems of no importance to her. This was troubling, and with conditions soon nearing for the likely hood of another seal breaking I found myself standing before a funeral home that barred me from entering.

There were sigils encasing the entire building, every entrance, window, and gate eluded to any possible entry I could make. Angels would not be able to prevent the breaking of a very strict seal, one that could only be accomplished under the light of a specific moon, which unfortunately was days away at this point. I would need mortal help. I needed the Winchesters.

They had a father figure in a man named Bobby Singer in South Dakota. It was he that I impersonated over the phone while speaking with Sam on the case. Cole Griffith proved the best way to pique their interests on coming to aid in the “case,” though they did not know the entire story of what was going on. There were too many demons lurking in the shadows to provide full details over the phone. Sam and Dean would have to handle this case alone.

They arrived in town a few days after, enough time for more “miracles” to occur while also nearing the night of the incessant moon. No other reapers had appeared prior, that of which I at least was grateful for. If another were to appear and be captured before Sam and Dean could arrive then the seal would most certainly have broken. Angels are as omniscient as translucent paper. As much as I despite admitting it, even we can be stopped from aiding or preventing demise. I needed them.

Uriel arrived to check in while Sam and Dean went to speak with those that were affected. It provided information on Alastair’s whereabouts and patterns. I could not stop myself from mentioning that the Winchesters were here investigating the case, though I refrained from telling him that it was because of me that they were here. Uriel did not care for the seal. He wanted Alastair. There were two separate missions being run here.

Sam and Dean learn of the boy, Cole Griffith and go to the graveyard. I saw Uriel in my periphery as he spotted Alastair, other demons not far behind but lurking in the very shadows that we were. I was about to step in once Alastair had sent Dean into a gravestone and knocked him unconscious, but to have invaded in the battle would have been to reveal our presence here. I could not save them from Alastair, even if he had indeed managed to kill them. Were it not for Sam and his abominable powers things would have turned out entirely different from what they were. I do not know which scenario is better, but Uriel seemed to be pleased that I did not interfere. He doesn’t care for the concept of human loss. As I said before, Heaven needs Alastair more than they need to protect the seal.

I impersonated their friend Bobby once more, telling them of the seal and the requirements. They had all the input I could give them without crossing borders. Now all I pray was for them to execute in time. They knew what they were up against now.

Another reaper made her appearance not long after Sam and Dean asked for Pamela’s aid in the mission. Pamela… Seeing her again, even in passing, brought an unknown ache. Why was I feeling… pity? Guilt? Sorrow? Why? She knew that she had been trespassing on viewing my true form. I had warned her to cease her activities. I should not be feeling that. I should not be feeling anything. And yet…

She enacted astral projection on Sam and Dean, effectively taking their souls to the spiritual realm that runs parallel with Earth. If I am not careful they could very well see me while they searched the town. Two attempts nearly outed me as a result of my inability to feel Sam’s presence. I could pinpoint Dean with ease.

Tessa was taken, though I regret saying that this was not expected. It now gave incentive for them to find her. Dean and Tessa’s connection was something I was not expecting, and though it gives another unknown emotion I am forced to push it aside for now. I am already on hollow ground, thinking more into actions will only widen the cracks.

The Winchesters find the funeral home, still embezzled as a prison meant to keep us out. I have no manner of knowing what occurred inside, the only hope being that they have managed to stop the seal from breaking. My prayers, at least in that, were finally answered. Tessa remained alive and the time needed to break the seal had passed. We have saved one.

Sam had been pulled back, his soul fading back into his body from what I could sense. Dean was left alone to search for Sam, but now the pieces were falling into place on Uriel’s side. Alastair had been tracking Dean after the funeral home to confront him, most likely in an attempt to kill. It was the perfect opportunity to imprison him, and strike we did. Alastair had been captured. Heaven had won.

And yet, in an attempt to explain this to Dean he still combatted me, asked me to spare the souls of those that would now begin to die, to rob them of their “miracles.” Everything I ask of Dean to do he does the opposite, including this, including my attempt to explain to him why things are how they are meant to be. Humans are a clear picture compared to him, compared to Dean. He was different. How do I explain to him that, even with that which we have one, lives will still need to be lost? To everything there is a season, even that which we do not want to see play out. I have no power over that anymore.

But Dean is the exception. He may not see it, may not understand it entirely, but there is a reason for Dean’s permanence on this earth, a need for him to have come back from Hell. He is different.

I left quickly upon sensing the reaper’s presence, instead taking care to follow them back to the house of the boy, Cole. Uriel was calling for me, but I had to see how this would occur, what help Tessa would ask Dean to do and why he would do it so readily when he would not listen to anything that I said. Clearly I was doing something wrong.

But here, watching Tessa welcome the boy into Heaven, hearing what Dean spoke about “another side…” It is not me that he does not respond to, rather it is the way in which the questions are delivered, the way they are received. Tessa carried humanity within her, something I am now seeing I do not entirely possess. I have no soul; I am not built with the same functionalities. I do now know where I go when I die.

We’re all scared… Dean is more right in those three words than I have been in 2000 years. I have been lying to myself countless times, thinking there is a higher purpose to Heaven’s order and yet knowing that I am being purposely clouded. I have attempted to ignore it with no results. Uriel wanted Alastair, but he did not tell me the specific natures as to why. I only naively assumed it was to prevent Lucifer’s rising, but now the more accurate word only seems to be delayed instead. The curtain I have cast over myself is something I must work on lifting, but not without causing suspicion if done incorrectly. Uriel plans on torture, but he has not told me how. I fear I already know the answer to that.

 

End.

Castiel


	16. 4x16 On the Head of a Pin

Report:

We are at war amongst ourselves, endless battles slaved with no goal but to overcome the other. There are no longer any sides; nothing is written anymore. Uriel continually cared less and less with every passing hour, and more angels were being slaughtered in cold blood.

Gavreel was the latest in the ever increasing list of fallen brothers and sisters. This had to end now. I had no time to mourn her death lest being discovered by police that had come to the scene of the battle and resulting car crash. There were mortal lives that needed tending to, and the cause of significant mortal death along with the grace of one angel broke another seal. There was nothing more I could do for her or for the situation. I had to leave.

We had to find the demon responsible if these murders, but we could not do it alone. We had apprehended Alastair with the aid of the Winchesters, yes, but not even our most skilled operators could get him to divulge the information we were seeking. I had thought he would fall when Virgil began, but Alastair would bow to no one.

Uriel was furious we had captured Alastair alive, speaking of false orders and stating that the order was to kill instead. A delusional leader had the same characteristics Uriel sported in that moment. It was disconcerting, especially given how far and long we both have served. He imprisoned Alastair and ordered I draw the strongest trap I could remember, an old Enochian Devil’s trap used to anchor Lucifer himself before his Fall. That was when he ordered I find Dean, that was when he spoke of Dean being our only hope.

I wanted nothing to do with it. Dean… he had just grown accustomed to living once more. To have him return to the creature we found him in, the most skilled in torture than any I had seen before… it would have been the same as ending Dean’s life once more. Uriel did not care, however. He gave the order, and I had to obey his command as much as I wished to challenge him on the matter, tell him to give Virgil more time. But my voice was limited, already on fragile ground I could not afford to sink lower lest I not be allowed to roam Earth at all. Dean would go to another angel, one that did not understand the magnitude of the situation without spending the time I have spent here.

We found them entering a motel room. Both looked haggard, Dean more than Sam. It was only when they began speaking that I realized what had happened. Pamela had found a place in Heaven. The cloud around Dean’s soul was his grief, but the cloud around Sam’s was far murkier, far more sinister. Sam was not as affected by their friend’s death. There is something else happening.

As I expected, Dean refused Uriel’s “request.” I attempted to step in, to give voice to some of my words when Uriel stopped me. I am meant to be playing the role of witness, the messenger of words that Dean would not hear from anyone else. That is the only reason Uriel allowed for me to come to begin with, telling me that was to be my exact and precise orders. I should not question the will of God, but that means nothing to Dean. Right now, fueled by emotions and mourning, Dean would not help willingly. Uriel sensed that. I wanted no more than to not ask him this, to tell him that this was not needed, but Dean’s help is what I was told was needed, what I was told was the only way we would stop angels from dying. Uriel would accept nothing short of an agreement, and even that he annulled in favor of taking us out of the room and to where we were storing Alastair. I briefly wondered how Sam was taking all the information leading to our “disappearance” on his end.

Dean wants no part in this, and so long as Uriel continues to be here I will have to remain on guard. Uriel would not think twice about torturing Dean into this; for that I have no doubt, just as I knew Dean sensed the shift in the room, how Uriel now carried the power. It was only once Uriel let to seek revelation that I could tell him what had happened. He commented on Uriel’s level of amusing, to which I responded dryly that Uriel was the funniest angel in the garrison. To say anything untoward him would be blasphemy. This was no laughing matter.

He asked what was going on and I told him the truth, told him what I dared not voice until that moment. My superior have begun to question my sympathies. They feel I’ve begun to express emotions, the doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment. Dean does not pry beyond what vague explanation I could give, but it pained me to see him this way. I would give anything not to have him do this, but I am told we need it. It is God’s will…

He consented then and entered the room. That was the last I heard of him for over seven hours.

The screams were the first indication it had begun, Alastair’s groaning, objects moving around, and shattering sheets of sound continually emanated from that room interspaced with Dean asking the same question. I felt my vessel’s stomach wretch upon peering into my thoughts. I could not blame him. This is the Dean I saw in Hell, one full of anger, spite, rage revenge…loss.  The sounds Alastair made… It was too much to hear again, but we needed the information. Briefly I wondered if I had done the right thing in persuading Dean, in telling him. My mind repeatedly went back to the same conclusion; I had condemned him to save my brothers and sisters. Does the weight of the many outweigh the integrity of the one? What am I becoming to let him do this?

What are these… feelings?

I thought of Anna then, my mind spinning in circles the revolved back to the two cases I knew of the consequences of these thoughts. She heard me easily, though I cannot place if this was a good or bad thing. She scoffed at Uriel’s seeking revelation. I suppose that is to be expected from her. After all she was the one that gave us our orders once before. She asks why I am letting Dean do this, why I am following but not understanding. Who are we to question the will of God… She cannot be right. God must be the one giving the order. That is how Heaven functions… All this time I just assumed it was Him, but I have never seen Him to know have I…

…

So this is fear. This… this is doubt; emotion; insecurity; pain; the unknown. These are orders…

But how dare Anna ask me to join her. I cannot. I am an angel. She _fell_. We are as alike as a caterpillar is to a moth. We can’t be alike… It’s treason. Its disobedience.

It was only after a what felt like hours pass that I realized I no longer heard any sound from the other room, not even the sound of Dean’s heartbeat. It was already slow from the minute he entered the room, a product of the work he was doing, but this was inhuman.

Something was wrong.

I entered the room to find Dean pinned to the trap Alastair was meant to be strapped to. The trap had broken somehow, but that was impossible. I had made that trap myself. There was no time to think about this however; I reached for the demon knife and plunged it into Alastair, in that time making sure Dean was out of harm’s way. He was barely breathing.

We fought for several minutes, Alastair and I. I could not let him escape in any fashion. Alastair had to die, but I was caught unaware and stabbed to a pole. I could feel my grace being expelled from my vessel, feel it begin to be called back to Heaven. To rip an angel from a soul forcefully is the equivalent of having one’s organs boiled over for both parties involved. It was excruciating. Had it not been for Sam’s timely arrival, I surmised I would have been expelled to Heaven once more, my vessel destroyed, and Dean once more killed with no protection.

His soul was far, far darker than it was the last I had seen him. His powers had returned tenfold, and in that time he made quick use of getting the information we so desperately needed only to find that demons were not behind the angel deaths. Sam killed Alastair then in the most horrific way, even for a demonic presence. It was unholy. It was agonizing. For the first time then I felt what must have been genuine human fear be it because my grace was returning to my vessel or Jimmy’s presence was called to the surface only briefly.

It was, without a doubt, fear of what Sam Winchester could do. He continues to head further down this path of destruction. It will not end well.

      ~~

Sam took Dean to the hospital while I tended to the facility. When I returned to the place where Dean lay fragile I could not enter. I could not face Dean. Not yet. Sam gave me the courtesy of speaking outside, though our conversation yielded no better answers. It was not the demons. Alastair was not lying. It is something else… We are failing one by one… could Heaven be eliminating those that cannot overcome?

It is a terrifying thought.

I went to speak with Uriel after Sam wanted no more with me. He was equally as confused on the matter, but everything felt… off somehow. Where was he in the battle? I knew that he would be alerted to the trap’s failure. Surely he would have known… No. He doesn’t care about Dean’s well-being and knew I would finish Alastair off. He did not count on Sam or any other factors. But even still.

I tell him my concerns about the true murdered. I tell him about Heaven punishing Heaven, that because we are failing Heaven is cleaning the slate. Uriel says that God isn’t giving the orders anymore. Maybe there is something wrong more than what I had already begun to question.

What am I serving? Truly?

The thought brought me once more to Anna, who I sought out that very night. For the first time I feel unsure and with no idea where to start. Disobedience seems to be the only viable option, but I still wish to serve Heaven. I just wished to know _who_ I was serving. Anna was once my superior, one I trusted in and could confide in, but even she would not give me orders. She would not give me the answers I craved. I was to do this alone. I was to think about this first before coming to her once more.

And I did, starting by returning to the trap and investigating. It was a leaking pipe from the sealing, its water trailing down and expelling the scripture on the floor. The pieces were beginning to fall into place then. Turning the handle that caused the entire plumbing issue only rectified them. Strange how a leaky pipe can undo the work of angels when we ourselves are supposed to be the agents of fate. No demon could have overpowered that trap, which is exactly why an angel disappeared to seek false revelation instead.

He did not deny it, Uriel. Instead he lunged at me, making the same offer that resulted in the death of my brothers and sisters. He wanted to rule a different Heaven, and that began by resurrecting the very being Heaven was attempting to stop, by starting the Apocalypse and writing a different ending. Uriel wanted Lucifer. With me by his side he would be powerful enough to do so. He says Lucifer was punished for defending angels, not disobeying God. That is wrong. I remember the aftermath. Uriel is coloring it with his own false hopes. There is a shroud that I have placed over my head that is being ripped off. Uriel must be stopped.

He asked me to be unafraid, to join him. For the first time in a long time, I am. I am unafraid of the consequences, unafraid of what will happen., because I know that in order to cease this needless killing, Uriel must be stopped. I played my part as the one that he wanted me to be, played it with just enough time for Anna to deliver the final blow. Uriel’s wings will forever brand that warehouse just as killing my brother will forever brand my mind.

Anna merely nodded to me before disappearing, no explanation or indication as to where she would be next. I knew what I had to do now.

He was still unconscious, had been for some time. The sounds of the monitors only sounded like empty footfalls to my ears while I waited. Dean was in this state because of me. He was in pain because of my blindness. When he’d awoken it only got worse, for he sounded broken. I will need to be more careful now. He will need to be more careful, but he did not take it in the same regard that I meant him to. He does not care about Uriel or about what has happened. I only understood why when he asked me a question I thought I had been prepared to answer.

And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.

We had been too late in rescuing him. I had been too late in finding the shell of a man to piece him back together again. Even the righteous fall, but that does not mean the end. Dean has to stop it. He is the only one that can. I knew it was not the news Dean wanted to hear.

He asked questions, far too many of which I could not answer not because I did not want to, rather because I had no answer to give. This was a failure. Yes, both Alastair and Uriel had been killed, but at the extent of what? What am I to do now? What could I possibly tell Dean to make him realize that he deserved to be saved?

This is disobedience; this is uncertainty; fate is no longer a part of the equation anymore. This is the path I have chosen. I need to answer these questions now.

But for now, my place is best served watching over the Righteous Man.

 

End.

Castiel

 

 

 


	17. 4x17 It's a Terrible Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel begins to see the aftermath of Uriel's death while Zachariah disappears

Report:

         Zachariah knows nothing about Anna’s involvement with Uriel’s death, the story instead altered to absolve her of any repercussions that would have otherwise risen. The aftermath of Uriel’s death plagues Heaven far less than I had anticipated however. None of my superiors seem to find major fault in what had occurred after I had explained to them Uriel’s plan of bringing about the Apocalypse and raise Lucifer. They only expressed interest in what I was hesitant to reveal about Dean’s proclamation, about him not feeling capable enough to stop it. Zachariah found particular concern in that one, much more than he seemed to show at the news that a fellow angel was the one killing our brothers and sisters. I do not know which one to find more unsettling, but the fact that the entire situation only serves to water this seed of doubt I now realize is inside of me does not alleviate it in any regard.

         He disappeared soon after my mandatory report, instructing that I remain in Heaven to await further orders. I am beginning to see the veil of falsehood that claim now entails, but to question a direct order would only further put me under surveillance. I told Dean all that had occurred in the events that resulted in him being there, about Sam and Alastair, and about Uriel. I healed as many of Dean’s wounds as I could before I left, but only the ones that I was able to heal. Matters of flesh and bone are trivial compared to the deep interconnected that is human emotion. Grief is not the correct word to describe what Dean must have been feeling, but I would not know how to describe it in any case. Feelings, as I am coming to realize, take on an entirely new ideal when you begin to feel them of your own accord…

         Those left in my garrison after Uriel are restless, looking to new leadership that, for the time being, I am once again in possession of. But a trapped leader is a trapped cause. I cannot lessen their apprehension through encouraging words, nor have I regained their trust so completely. I am as at a standstill as are my further orders yet to be given by the one angel that has seemingly disappeared, his last known whereabouts having been a technology, finance, and insurance firm. To have not heard from either Sam or Dean as well is unsettling. I know they are unharmed, but I no longer know where they are. Both Winchesters had left the hospital a few days after I last spoke with them. Something is off, but I cannot place what it is. It is a universe without an origin, a place where there are similarities between words and yet infinitely different contrasts. In any event I am unable to find the source of my discomfort without causing more in the process for others. Heaven in some regards very much resembles that of a corporate building, it’s workers ensuring that all will benefit the company. One mistake, one misalignment however, can lead to being disbarred or annihilation. That I am coming to realize is far more an impactful than I once thought it was in relation to the very beings that manage Heav—

         A prophet is being harmed. I must leave immediately.

 

End.

Castiel

 

 

Report:

Zachariah knows nothing about Anna’s involvement with Uriel’s death, the story instead altered to absolve her of any repercussions that would have otherwise risen. The aftermath of Uriel’s death plagues Heaven far less than I had anticipated however. None of my superiors seem to find major fault in what had occurred after I had explained to them Uriel’s plan of bringing about the Apocalypse and raise Lucifer. They only expressed interest in what I was hesitant to reveal about Dean’s proclamation, about him not feeling capable enough to stop it. Zachariah found particular concern in that one, much more than he seemed to show at the news that a fellow angel was the one killing our brothers and sisters. I do not know which one to find more unsettling, but the fact that the entire situation only serves to water this seed of doubt I now realize is inside of me does not alleviate it in any regard.

He disappeared soon after my mandatory report, instructing that I remain in Heaven to await further orders. I am beginning to see the veil of falsehood that claim now entails, but to question a direct order would only further put me under surveillance. I told Dean all that had occurred in the events that resulted in him being there, about Sam and Alastair, and about Uriel. I healed as many of Dean’s wounds as I could before I left, but only the ones that I was able to heal. Matters of flesh and bone are trivial compared to the deep interconnected that is human emotion. Grief is not the correct word to describe what Dean must have been feeling, but I would not know how to describe it in any case. Feelings, as I am coming to realize, take on an entirely new ideal when you begin to feel them of your own accord…

Those left in my garrison after Uriel are restless, looking to new leadership that, for the time being, I am once again in possession of. But a trapped leader is a trapped cause. I cannot lessen their apprehension through encouraging words, nor have I regained their trust so completely. I am as at a standstill as are my further orders yet to be given by the one angel that has seemingly disappeared, his last known whereabouts having been a technology, finance, and insurance firm. To have not heard from either Sam or Dean as well is unsettling. I know they are unharmed, but I no longer know where they are. Both Winchesters had left the hospital a few days after I last spoke with them. Something is off, but I cannot place what it is. It is a universe without an origin, a place where there are similarities between words and yet infinitely different contrasts. In any event I am unable to find the source of my discomfort without causing more in the process for others. Heaven in some regards very much resembles that of a corporate building, it’s workers ensuring that all will benefit the company. One mistake, one misalignment however, can lead to being disbarred or annihilation. That I am coming to realize is far more an impactful than I once thought it was in relation to the very beings that manage Heav—

A prophet is being harmed. I must leave immediately.

 

End.

Castiel

 

 


	18. 4x18 The Monster at the End of this Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get into the good stuff and set up for the end of season 4 >:D

Report:

       It was Dean that had found the prophet Chuck. Thankfully I had arrived in time before the archangel had, otherwise I do not think this would have ended peacefully. How Dean managed to find Chuck I am unsure, but now that he knows of the Winchester Gospels there is very little that I was able to do to quell his anger. I could not let him hurt Chuck as much as I could feel that he wanted to. Chuck is a conduit for the spoken Word of God. Not even Dean’s need would be enough to stave off the wrath of the archangel should Dean have gone any further.  

       The news of Sam and Lilith was unexpected, but even Dean himself looked as if he had recently sufferance some sort of trauma as well. This had to happen of course, no matter how much I wished it were not the case there was nothing I could do. Nothing can be changed. What a prophet has written is what shall come to fruition, even if it does indeed mean Sam must engage in certain activities. Sam was going to make some sort of deal and there was no way we could “get around it.” To kid at such a time would make no sense.

       Dean left soon after, presumably to attempt to alter fate. Impossible, but from what I have gathered thus far it appears the Righteous Man has no qualms for fate, therefore in his eyes why should he at least not try even if the result will be futile?

       … That was an odd thought.

       Chuck let me keep one of the copies of his books. Angels have not yet read scripture that is still currently being revealed, but Chuck’s work is rather remarkable. It has shed light on many aspects of the Winchester that I had yet to understand, which goes back to the aforementioned point about Dean’s lack of restraint when it comes to matters of divine destiny. He was never one for that. Sam’s story is rather different, and entire side of him willingly withheld from scripture. Demon blood apparently does not sell, or rather that is what Chuck informed me before I felt it.

       _“_ _Well I feel stupid for doing this. But I am fresh out of options. So please, I need some help. I’m praying okay? C’mon.”_

       It was a sign of faith.

       From Dean no less. I was pleased when I came to him then, but he was still adamant in attempting for me to get Sam away from the fate that awaited him. They had had some sort of fight, that much was obvious, but my having come to the aid of a prophet before an archangel had reached my superiors. We are not to interfere with the affairs of higher ranked angels in the celestial chain of command. I could feel myself being watched, therefore my words had to be chosen carefully.

       I could not help end this, could not help prevent Lilith and Sam’s paths from crossing especially now of all times, but I could guide Dean to an alternate plan, make it as if he was the one to have thought of it and not myself. I framed my answered accordingly, enough so that when I mentioned Chuck and the archangel, when I mentioned _why_ I was unable to help, it was not for lack of wanting. Sam’s part of the story may be altered, but Dean’s is entirely intact. He is smart and quick witted; I was confident he would see the plan from the moment that I spoke it. If a prophet was in the same room as a demon, then the most fearsome wrath of Heaven would reign down on that demon. Archangel’s are Heaven’s most terrifying weapon. That is why preventing Lucifer from being released from Hell is that much more important.

       I watch the rest, true to my words. I cannot interfere, but I can observe. Dean went to get Chuck and the plan functioned accordingly once Chuck had entered the room. Lilith escaped, yes, but Sam was saved, even if his supposed succumbing was instead meant to be yet another underlying trap. It was enough.

       But it was also enough for suspicion of me to continue to arise. I am being recalled back to Heaven with urgent orders, but the orders seem different… they seem odd.

       …

       No. That cannot be true. That cannot be our orders.

       I have to talk to Dean.

 

End,

Castiel


	19. 4x19  Jump the Shark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how this is the ep we meet Adam? Yeah well this is also the ep where everything goes to shit for Cas before the final 3 eps :) Enjoy.

Report:

Heaven betrayed me.

Orders or no orders, I refuse to believe this is our sacred mission, that this was what we are meant to do. I have no choice any longer. I must fight. We did not raise Dean simply so he could be a surrogate. He deserves to know the truth, and all of it, and that starts with Adam Milligan but by no means ends there.

I have no choice any longer. To ignore a direct order to return to Heaven is blasphemy. I must fight. I have to if Dean is meant to stay safe. He was placed under my protection; no one else’s. Everything I had been doing up to this point I thought was in favor of Heaven’s plan, but I see now that it is merely nothing but meaningless work that I was never meant to finish. Obstacles corrode my path now, but I have to get to Dean. I have to stop it.

Zachariah knew what I was doing before I did somehow, be it due to his proximity to Chuck or otherwise. But my rebellion was not unnoticed slowly. There was a squadron upon me within minutes. To spill the blood of another angel would equal me to that of Uriel in their eyes, a dangerous thought that I could not let happen else I wish to truly fulfill what I need to be done. I shielded myself from angel detection to the best available degree, but devout were everywhere on the streets as I searched for Sam and Dean. Heaven was issuing a search and retrieve order on my head and using Humanity as it’s siren. I made it three days.

Three days before I had to another angel. I could not risk my location being discovered, not when I was this close to Windom, Minnesota. I needed to warn Dean. I needed to tell him.

They were on a case when I arrived incognito, not physically present in their realm but at the same time in hiding from others that were equally in my state of being. They had found Adam on their own, but revelation was too late. Afriel and Eremiel found me. They were going to return to Heaven, broadcast my location and risk the total destruction of an entire town just to smite me should I not surrender myself. Dean was in this town; I could not let that happen.

And so they perished, resulting to nothing but the ashes in the graveyard of the ghouls. There was nothing I could do… Nothing that could be done.

It earned me all but a few hours, enough time to shine a light through the only window inside the crypt Dean had been trapped in. Adam was dead.

There was no more time after that, I needed to leave in order to not risk Sam and Dean’s lives. I knew Dean would get to Sam in time, but I had to leave. It appears Afriel managed to leak my location before his death.

There were more than 20, Zachariah himself included, that met me in an abandoned factory in the most remote location I could muster. I had already made the preparations. No other angel was going to die if I could help it. Those lives will forever stain my hands, more so than Uriel. Because these were angels under orders. They carried no fault but that of the will of Heaven. I do not serve Heaven. Not anymore.

I drew the sigil and placed my hand after, but not before I could feel it, could feel my grace being ripped from my vessel. There isn’t much time left. I have to tell Dean.

I need to reach him.

 

End.

Castiel

 

 


	20. 4x20 "The Rapture"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind Cas goes through the whole reboot phase. That's kinda hard to convey in words without resorting to third person.

Report:

A flash of white light; a bright room; medical chair; syringe space; handcuffs; restraints; loud voices and noises; pressure; pain; unease; fear; more pain…

I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord! I need to leave!

More pain.

I am Castiel! This is not ri—

Excruciating Pain; syringe.

Castiel… Angel..of…

….

…….

 

~

 

         It is Heaven’s duty to oversee and maintain order and society on Earth. Angels serve Heaven. We are warriors of God, capable of smiting entire civilizations with the flick of a finger and annihilating those that go against divine prophecy. We are programmed to carry out orders, not create them. We serve Heaven and only Heaven. Never once were angels thought to serve Man, least of all the very Man that would start the end.

The first seal was broken. The time of Revelations is upon us. We have an extreme amount work to do, but there is one human that needs to do it, that needs to rise so that the divine plan comes to fruition. Dean Winchester.

And this time, Dean Winchester will obey. This is what Heaven has taught me, branded upon my being so that I can finally see the truth. Our plan is just. It comes from the highest authority, one that cannot and should never be disputed or countered in any form. It was sacrilege; blasphemy; desecration on the most holy of sites to ever had thought in such a way. Pain is nothing if not an insightful motivator, and I have seen enough.

I have been given orders that I must contend to, and because my vessel had been damaged in an altercation of human matters I had to resort to following the child, Claire Novak. Her consent was agreed upon in the strictest of senses before I dispatched the abominations that were the demons mercilessly. Jimmy knew who I was from the moment I gazed upon him. Claire Novak was taken care of. Angels keep their promises. All humans should simply have faith, for we will provide in accordance with Heaven. Of course we keep our promises. Of course Jimmy Novak has our gratitude for that which he has given the cause.

Angels do not emote. We carry no such needs to relate. We only protect and serve the will of Heaven. Nothing more and absolutely nothing less. Faith and orders are that which we must comply with. The Righteous Man was being threatened and thus I had to deal with the demons…

Only to find the biggest demon sucking the blood of a lesser one. Sam Winchester has gone too far. Dean Winchester must stop it. He must stop it all. I cannot aid in the matter. To do so would be against orders, and I must not disobey orders.

Jimmy was injured severely, enough to see that death would be imminent. He had served Heaven well. It was his time to lay in the fields of the lord eternally. Claire would make a suitable vessel for what little time I would have left on Earth before my relocation. Those were the orders.

… Only Jimmy refused. I did not understand why. He was being offered solace, free of pain. Pain is the ultimate motivator, and yet he chose to embrace it, to be my vessel without knowing the final outcome. This past year was difficult for him, but that would not make eternity any better.

And yet he chose that for Claire. He chose family…

…

Orders are still orders. They will be better executed in my old vessel, and it would honor Jimmy Novak’s wishes. I transferred my grace and found myself again looking through old eye, only now I had a clearer focus. It is clouded by doubt no longer.

The woman went to Claire after. Amelia Novak. A mother caring for her daughter after a traumatic experience. The Lord will serve them well in due time, but my orders are elsewhere now. Dean Winchester should no longer carry the priority I so oddly bestowed upon him over Heaven.

Angels serve Heaven. I am an Angel.

I serve Heaven. I don’t serve man, and I certainly don’t serve Dean Winchester.

 

End Report.

Castiel


	21. 4x21 When the Levee Breaks

Report:

         It has been weeks since I last spoke to Dean. There are two seals remaining. The Apocalypse is upon us. All of these details are important and yet I am tied once more, a caterpillar forever trapped in its cocoon. I could do no more, Zachariah made that painfully clear. I believed it at the beginning, but there are two forms of pain. I have existences knowledge of the physical, but there is a different form of pain that I have come to know since then. This one is deeply rooted into a bond, one that ebbs and flows, feeds doubt and starves joy. This is an emotional pain that I should never know, and yet here we stand.

         Yes, here I stand; staring at Dean Winchester screaming into the sky for the last two hours and not knowing if I should answer his prayers. He rarely does this, rarely seeks me out anymore, but this… Watching your brother degenerate at your hands would likely drive anyone to retribution. I couldn’t tell him the whole truth, about Sam and Lilith; Those were not my orders, what were my orders was to make sure Dean complied, to make sure Dean took an oath of featly by any means necessary. I can’t answer him. I just can’t. He was angry; I understood why. Any names he called me were well deserved. I had the power to help but no ability to use it. I was a bird with clipped wings. My movement was tied to a post. Nevertheless, he complied. I spoke the words Zachariah wanted me to say and Dean accepted his role in this mission… but only because he thought he could save Sam by doing this. I despise it, despise feeling as if I have wronged everything, despise how following orders only leads to pain and not success. This spying amongst the Winchesters: it’s not right. Heaven is meant to be a sanctuary not a surveillance prison. I was a dog herding sheep to slaughter, but any disobedience of any kind would render me the same fate. Dean is accepting this role thinking Sam will be saved, but this deal will not save Sam. Not in the slightest, but if it will help Dean transition that way then there is nothing more than I could do but give him at least that bit of false comfort, a bat masquerading as a bird.

         I watched when Sam’s powers got the better of him, watched how Dean and Bobby had to tie Sam down in order to prevent any more inflicted harm of any kind. At this rate Sam would die before he too was needed. Orders came within that very hour. I waited until nightfall, taking due diligence to make sure that both Dean and Bobby were asleep. Unlocking the handcuffs was miniscule work. Opening and closing the door silently was swift after. Sam was now freed from his cage. At least one bird could openly fly again before he would be shot down. I would not know the feeling. I was never meant to.

         But Anna knew where I was. She has been monitoring me for some time. That was the next phase of my orders. Persuade Dean. Free Sam. Capture Anna. It all sounded so simple, and yet it all gave more of that second form of pain.

         She came of course. Why did she come? She must have known the consequences, must have sense the truth about what had happened… and yet she still came, still asked me questions I could never answer, questions I began to see more light on even in the darkness of this wharf. Another bird has had her wings clipped.

         Why.

         Why is it that, after learning, understanding, betrayal, pain, suffering, loss, anguish, strife, fear, and threats have I not learned the lesson Heaven has desperately tried to teach me? I no longer believe in this system in the same way I once did, and yet with every order I enact I find myself weighed down by those very same chains the orders have become.

         …

         Dean prayed once more. He asked about Sam, informing me of his escape. I could not answer him. Not now. I needed to stay here, reflect on all this just as the moon reflects on the water. Perhaps I am not a bird, rather instead I am a fish. I’m drowning in this air around me after all. When the levee breaks there is nothing stopping the water that rushes through. I can feel raining down on my skin.

         …

         Heaven is calling. There are new orders. It is time.

        

End.

Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. That was a very subtle way of saying Cas was crying. He just doesn't realize it.


	22. 4x22 Lucifer Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end of the fourth season. Holy crap guys what a ride.
> 
> We're going to take a break for Thanksgiving before starting season 5, but hope you guys like the end here!

Report:

       It is almost time. All seals have fallen except for 1. Heaven’s plan was being put to test and all the final pieces were being assembled. One of those pieces was Dean, which meant getting a hold of him and extraditing him to the sanctuary, a sacred space in between Heaven and Earth, though not entirely out of Earth’s range. He was not particularly thrilled on being taken during a heated debate with Bobby Singer either. I could not give him any information; I was not instructed to give details, but I was at least able to hear what Dean wanted to say to Bobby. He and Sam had fought, and fought deeply far beyond any other battle before that. Rough language was given, but Dean would not say anymore. I had to leave him regardless. Zachariah did not want much time for me to be alone with Dean due to recent events. I could not object.

I was only allowed to return with Zachariah, remaining mute while my superior spoke to Dean. Throughout the duration of that conversation Dean remained stubborn. It would be out of his nature not to be, after all, but it was only after Zachariah gave him the “one good reason” he asked for that I saw a shift in him. I saw any shred of trust I held with him shatter then. My job was to get Dean to comply, but that does not mean Dean realized the gravity of what I had him do. He had to obey now. He was in the same trap I was, and it was entirely by my hand. I was told to find solace in that, but solace is not the emotion I can feel budding inside my chest.

Dean called Sam after we had left, but not before I stopped watching him. He told Sam he was sorry for what he said, how he shouldn’t have said it. He’s not their father. They’re brothers. Family, and that doesn’t change no matter how bad it gets. It’s a sentiment Dean has never really spoken aloud before that that I could recall, but he acknowledges his wrongs. He sees his mistakes.

Angels refuse to.

Why do we, celestial beings, refuse to recognize when we have made an unjust error and yet humans, the very beings Zachariah sees as petulant children understand that concept fully?

Dean is pacing, pacing, pacing, but time is not aiding in any factor. He continually asks to see me after a few rounds of walking about, stopping briefly to look at the detail in the paintings of the sanctuary. I was told to keep him waiting, instructed to wait a full hour and a half and see if he still continued to want to see me after that. It was only then that I was allowed to reveal myself. I am hesitant to think Dean’s choice of breaking an angel statue upon my arrival was intentional after thinking about it. Obviously Dean has issues, but not any that I can remedy or at least attempt to.

I knew he would ask to see Sam. The phone call prior was indication enough that he would request to, but Zachariah gave explicit orders. Should Dean see Sam, Heaven’s plan would end. Sam would see reason and not end Lilith’s life, which would result in destiny not being carried out as it was foretold. I could not let Dean see Sam, even if denying Dean the request caused for more shards to break in whatever sort of relationship we had managed to create. Him attempting to leave after that was where I had to be called back. My speaking to him had accomplished nothing but informing Dean that he was trapped there. Zachariah was furious.

It was not long after that before Dean began destroying the walls. I despised this, watching Dean like a lion in a cage desperately trying to be freed. I had the key to the door but a chain tied to me as well. This was destiny; this was and is how it is foretold. I could not change it. Zachariah goes to speak with him, but I am not allowed to hear their conversation. My ranking is blatant; I am not to be trusted right now. I do not blame my superiors. I do not trust myself either. Angels do not have any concept of trust. We have faith and loyalty.

Why would I think about trust?

… Because I have lost Dean’s. That is why.

When Zachariah was elsewhere I returned to Dean. He had been trying to call Sam once more, but we had already sealed the sanctuary. Any communications now were dealt with solely by us. Dean’s phone was useless, but he did not care. He wanted answers. He wanted help. I could not give him those answers. There were still eyes watching.  

I remember how Dean apologized on the phone and thought it perhaps a fair step to do that as well, to acknowledge my own mistakes this time around. I wish it had not ended this way between us, but our paths were only meant to cross for so long.

Dean’s punch did not hurt physically, but it hurt something far deeper that I cannot name.

But this has been long foretold. You cannot change destiny. The Apocalypse has been written since the dawn of creation.

There are families, real people, that would burn in this war should Lucifer rise. It is a very, very valid argument, one I vaguely remember hearing myself utter before I was forcibly recalled back to Heaven.

But what is worth saving, truly? With every passing day both Sam and Dean come at a crossroads culminating in a battle that cast Sam out of Dean’s life once more. All I see is pain, anger, confusion, and strife in Dean’s soul just as there is in Sam’s, albeit clouded and far less clear. I feel what Dean feels, I have seen what Dean has experienced. It is a weight no man or angel should bear, and yet Dean continues to. In paradise everything will be forgiven, time will be rewritten free of that pain, of that doubt creeping into his skin that he has been wrong for far too long. Dean will be at peace. He will be content… so why is that not what he wants?

…

This conversation no longer feels like it is about Dean…

This is my mirror.

This is what I was tortured into repeating until it was all that I knew. Destiny or death, those were my choices… I am giving the same speech to Dean and yet only now realizing just how it parallels my own torture. The block that was cast upon my memories of that time have been lifted. I remember it all. Being held down, a needle, my head being reprogrammed, my screams as I was fed these words I repeated.

It was too much.

I was in my own head then, not realizing what had happened until Dean caught my attention once more. He figured it out, too. Of course he would. I too have been his mirror for some time.

The pain, the guilt, it is a sign of acknowledging, a sign of life. To be at peace in the way Zachariah has prophesized is to have no knowledge of its counterpart, to be mindless in a world run by angels alone. I was fighting my words once more, not understanding their falseness until Dean spoke the opposite of the statement, until he showed me the truth.

This wasn’t destiny or death. I am already dead by choosing to accept my fate. If I choose Dean—If I choose to help—then I will be hunted. We all will. Heaven will cease to rest until I have fallen completely, but if I choose Heaven, Dean and the entire world will die only to be replaced by a false nirvana. A fabricated utopia.

I have been alive for millennia, but this is the first time I have found myself overwhelmed with the chaos I thought I was preventing. My view has been turned upside down, but Dean takes it as rejection. He sees it as my not wishing to aid when in actuality it is me realizing all that I have erred on. It is another nail in the coffin, but that coffin will no longer house my grace. I tried to speak to him once more, but he shut me out. He is done with me. I need to find another route, but I need to think as well.

Angels have never chosen before. We were always dealt our hands, never being the one meant to deal them. If I choose this path, there is no returning. I will be hunted for as long as I live. Zachariah has already altered Dean’s voicemail to Sam, which meant destiny was being played at the hands of a puppeteer.

That is not what I want. That is not what should be.

I saw my opportunity while Zachariah was occupied with the voicemail.

Silencing Dean was the first task. He needed to know there was a bigger part of this to play and not enough time, though my configuring that in nothing but a visual conversation is not my strongest attribute. Dean seemed to understand regardless, for he did not speak when I removed my hand. There were just seconds now before Zachariah would return. I needed to act quickly, create the seal and enact it. We need to stop Sam from killing Lilith. She is the final seal. I did not know where Sam was, but one that has seen destiny would know.

Going to Chuck’s house spelled death. Disrupting destiny spelled death. Sam was at St. Mary’s Convent, but staying in that house spelled Dean’s death. He could not die on my account. There have been to many things I have wronged him by to be the cause of his death. He needed to stop Sam. I would handle the archangel.

I knew this would be my fate when I took this path, but I refuse to let it be my end. Chuck seemingly all but disappeared before it happened. I felt the pain that comes with smiting, but nothing more.

I fear this might be my final report—no, it will be—but know this was my choice. I chose my destiny this time, and I choose willingly.

I am no longer what I once was. My name is Castiel, and this is my final stand.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	23. 5x01 Sympathy for the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New season guys wooooooo

 

Report,

 

           He failed. I died. The Apocalypse has started.

            Only Sam and Dean are now safe in a plane in the sky and I find myself just on the outskirts of Ilchester. It was there that I saw the world end. It was there that I saw any hope we had crash around me. Now I was to be forever hunted with no gain to be had.

            All that work. Useless.

            But there is something far more important to acknowledge through all of this. Angels were not the ones that revived me or the ones that put Sam and Dean on that plane. Only one belong has that much power to displace us all from the deaths that we received. There is a blinding light one sees, even as an angel. It is more than any light a smite could produce or even the flames that result from an angel’s passing. This light was different.

            This was all God’s doing. He saved Sam and Dean. He brought me back. There is no other explanation.

            I quickly realized I had been cast out from Heaven. It was expected; inevitable, but even then, the pain felt like a fresh gash on a deep wound. Heaven closed its gates and its powers on me. I can no longer heal, no longer help in the same regard that I once could. I am on my own now, I chose this thinking that this would be the end. But this is only a far worse reality now. Lucifer is circling his vessel in Pike Creek, Delaware. It is only a matter of time before his tactics result in the human’s consent.

            And Dean… Dean was Michael’s true vessel. Zachariah would stop at nothing, would stoop just as low to get Dean to bow down to him and give consent for Michael as well. It is a war for bonds, a battle for property in the eyes of the angels. Technicalities will only last so far.

            I stepped in when I saw Zachariah torturing him, torturing them both. This is not consent by any means, even if Dean did say yes. This was complete and carnal torture, destroying these boys like this. I killed two of my kind today to save them… why did I save them? They are the direct cause for this, the direct reason I have lost so much. Yet here I remain. Saving them from their certain deaths because I knew that Dean would not forfeit to Zachariah. He would never surrender to anyone.

            Zachariah was surprised at my resurfacing. Understandable considering how I was surprised as well when I found myself in a crater not too earlier, but the answer as to who put me there was clear, even if Zachariah refuses to see it now. It would mean that he would have to listen to someone once more, and I know the very thought shakes his core. But God is very much alive. There is no other explanation.

            But I could not speak with Sam and Dean. I could save them, but nothing more. They failed. I failed. The world is the one that will suffer if we do not stop it; every angel is searching for Sam and Dean right now. They are targets for what they did, Dean from both angel and demon and Sam from everyone including himself. Emotions radiate from him, all negative. Even angels can sense that. They needed to be hidden from the supernatural. Angel and demon alike. Carving Enochian sigils into their bones would prevent discovery, but it would also cloud their whereabouts form me as well. It is for the best for now. I need to find God. I need to understand why I was allowed to return. And for that I need the amulet.

            This is the start of a new chapter; one I did not think I would live to tell. This is the story of how I will find my father.

 

Yours,

Castiel

           

           


	24. 5x02 Good God Y'all

Report:

There was much to be done if I was going to succeed in finding God. Scripture has concealed the true clues in finding God due to humankind’s incessant need to rewrite history, but I know a key artefact that will aid me on my journey. I have seen it and it’s place for the better half of the last Gregorian year.

I needed to find Dean.

Because I shielded them from the radar of other angels, I inadvertently closed the door for me to find them myself as well. Therefore, after making a phone call to Sam I discovered where they were: St. Martin’s hospital. Arriving there was far easier than anticipated, even with so many nurses and doctors working diligently to save the lives of the humans within this establishment. Hospitals can be both signs of hope as well as harbingers of death, therefore if Sam and Dean are in one I can only assume it is because of the latter. Thankfully, they were still alive. Otherwise it would have been a nuisance to get them again.

They were there for Bobby, their surrogate father. It appears Zachariah’s threats rang true in this case; Bobby was not going to walk again. The demon tore through the nerves that allowed for movement when it died, a final attempt to scar the body that expelled it in such a manner. I could see the pain it was doing to him, even if I no longer could see his soul. It was one of the powers that I could not access anymore, that and the ability to heal and perform miracles. I could not heal Bobby’s legs; I could not heal the damage done on this world.

But God could.

Sam and Dean could not face my brother alone. Lucifer is an archangel, one who has hoarded his power in a cage that was meant to be lost. All that power, that anger, it us now unleashed upon the world. It is foolish that they think they can go against him by themselves. I needed to convince Dean to let me borrow his amulet. There is another solution to this, one that is far more favorable and achievable, I am sure of it. He protected Sam and Dean by putting them on an airplane. He resurrected me. The answer to the question Dean kept repeating was obvious.

He did not believe me at first; understandable considering my father and his record with humans, or at least what they know of. But God is not dead. He cannot be… but what Dean said about God abandoning Earth, his tirade about my Father. It is absurd right now. I lost everything: Heaven, my brothers and sisters, their trust, my powers; I lost everything for nothing, because Dean and his brother failed. I risked _everything_ for Dean and I have nothing to show for it. Frankly speaking, Dean does not get a choice in trying to prove what I am saying is wrong when he himself has nothing to show for his actions besides the end of the world. Keep your opinions to yourself, Dean Winchester. I no longer have time to entertain them.

I came for the amulet. A “God EMF” indeed, but what I thought would be a simple exchange turned into a deeper meaning. Dean did not know about the amulet’s true power, about its origins. To him it means something else entirely, though I have yet to figure out what that is.  It’s clear there’s more attachment there, a story he has to tell me.

“Don’t lose it” is more of a threat than a plea or condition. It is all the more reason to keep the artifact safe. Because it is no longer just an amulet. This is a piece of Dean I suspect he has never relinquished, a physical one. If I hadn’t been still slightly annoyed with the man in front of me I would almost consider it some sort of honor.

This is a very bizarre way of thinking, but I have what I came for. There is nothing more I could do here, but that does not mean I did not hear Bobby’s retort concerning his legs. If only I had the power to heal them I would, without a second thought.

But I now have a job to carry and the means to accomplish it. I cannot fail now.

 

Yours,

Castiel

 

 


	25. 5x03 Free to Be You and Me

Report:

         There have been rumors of demons harboring weapons for the impending battle, signs of revelations spawning in towns from one end to another. I have come across other angels, demons, creatures of the night, and priests and parishioners while searching for Him, but until recently I had found nothing. That is until a deputy sheriff had reported sighting an archangel. That was precisely the lead I needed. If anyone were to know where God was, it would be the archangel that killed me and one of the few to have seen His face: Raphael. No simple man would be the answer to this puzzle.

         With finding Raphael came concerns and precautions. He was the reason I had died before Lucifer rose, it was Rapahel that had the ability to smite without a second thought. I needed to another person to aid me, one capabale to understanding and acquiring information in a timely manner. Reaching Bobby was simple, but he did not give me Dean’s information without a few questions. He gave me Dean’s last known location, enough for what I needed. What I did not expect was another lecture concerning my proximity to him. It appears there are things I have not understood yet, but there were other matters to attend to; matters that the Winchesters cou—

         Sam was not there, and regardless of what he says it does not appear Dean is taking any sort of vacation right now, not in the middle of the apocalypse. There is something else that happened.

         He was full of jokes, Dean. Something made him seem more free-spirited, but not without an underlying layer of dread and sadness there that I could see. I chose not to question it for now, but that did not mean I would let the matter drop for when there would be time. There was something plaguing Dean’s mind, something that is hurting him more than he realizes right now.

         I asked for his help, explained the situation to him and about the sheriff in Maine. He mentioned something ot the effect of Thelma and Louise but I waited for a clarification that never came. There was something off with Dean if he was making so many references like this that he knew I would not understand, but I had to have him agree. He would not be harmed because he is Michael’s vessel. This is a rare opportunity for me to get answers no one else wishes to see. I needed someone to believe this—someone to believe me. I have to make him believe. Thankfully he agrees, but with conditions: Dean wished to drive to Maine. 10 hours of time in a car with Dean.

         …

         This road there is slow and the car itself feels tight. I heard hours upon hours of loud music that Dean refused to let me question, instead only asking that I “give it a chance and shut your piehole.” His posture was stiff at the beginning, but over the course of the following hours he softened, easing into the hours-long drive I saw him smile as he spoke. This was… odd. It was all odd. I watched the landscape change with every hour, a progression in time I have never seen before, not like this. Trees changed different colors, cows walked by the impala while it turned into backroads, Dean commented on different forms of weather he had seen over the news in the last few days. This must be what Sam sees when they drive, though I doubt this is how Sam must feel. Dean has still yet to mention him, instead focusing on the road and letting the music play whenever a topic even breached close to his younger brother.

         We arrived at Waterville, Maine 10 hours later, thankfully at a time that allowed for us to continue our work without wasting time. My plan was to speak with the sheriff that had seen the archangel, to tell him the truth of what it was that he saw. Dean saw that as a “one-way ticket to the looney bin.” He offered a different track: lie. I did not understand t first. Why not tell the truth? Is that not common practice or human custom?

This is Dean’s territory. He knows how to acquire the needed information both with and without a blade in this realm. According to him when humans want something really, really bad, they lie. It seems to be the reason false prophets can rise to the presidency somehow. Why? Can humans be so nearsighted that they would rather believe in a lie than face the truth? This is entirely confusing. Instead of an answer Dean merely fixed my tie and handed me a FBI badge. Upon inspecting it, it looked as if it was plucked right from the bureau itself, only a picture is attached of Jimmy Novak’s face. Forgery, but it is imperceptible. Dean had instructed me to take it out once we had gone in, but that was lost to me when we finally entered the police station. Dean took the lead anyway, fixing any mistakes that could have blown this cover we now found ourselves with. I realized while there that I understood Dean’s reasoning behind this cover as opposed to telling this truth. Past experience does give this form of decoy more credibility. The sheriff would most likely stab me as well if I revealed my true identity like Dean had not too long ago. We were never meant to be seen that way.

         Dean continued his line of questioning while speaking with the Sheriff, Walt Framingham. Questioning in this form is foreign to me, therefore when Dean continues asking questions we already knew answers to, I foolishly thought it was because I had failed in supplying him all the information I had. I nearly destroyed our cover because of it had Dean not thought quickly. After that I refrained from commenting any more than needed. This was Dean’s territory. I should respect the boundaries for now. I only spoke once more when the deputy mentioned Raphael’s vessel was in St. Pete’s. This was clearly a sign, but I needed to make sure Dean knew it.

         He did. With far more emotion than he showed in the car.

         When we exited the police department Dean grabbed my arm and simply asked “Do they not have people skills in angel school or something?”

         “No, Dean. What is Angel school?”

         He dropped it after that, instead guiding me back to the car so that we may go to St. Pete’s. It was a mental hospital and care center. Inside was the man we were searching for, Donnie Finnerman. He was now a shell of the man he once was, an empty vessel left by an archangel. Dean and I watched him for a few minutes before Dean asked what I knew he would. He asked if he would be in the same state if Michael “jumped his bones.” I could not lie to Dean about that. He deserved the truth when it concerned his life.

         Dean would be decimated if Michael ever did choose to vacate his body should Dean somehow say Yes. There would be nothing for Dean’s mind and soul to return back to…It is a fate I do not want to see come to term. I could sense him stiffen behind me, undoubtedly of the same mind while we stared at the man in the wheelchair in the room. This is one of many possible futures for him right now, a window into the abyss. He did not move for a while until I told him of my plan and where I needed to go.

We needed a place that was sheltered from unintentionally harming anyone around us. I then travelled to Jerusalem in order to acquire holy oil and pour the traps where they needed to go. Explaining the entire ritual to Dean seemed to bring him out of the state he was in after leaving St. Pete’s, but there is more than he is letting on right now. There is an even deeper pit.

I told him everything the ritual would entail, ending with him realizing there was a chance I would not survive this. He would be safe, however; He cannot be harmed, but I know there is likely a bounty on my head, the rogue angel with no gains from having betrayed his faith. This would be my last night, but it was one I thought I at least would spend with company.

Dean had other ideas once he found out, and once he did I realized fairly quickly best not to tell him what I had originally been planning. He knew more about a “last night on earth” than I did, I suppose…. but Angels do not carry the same needs and wants humans do, not in a primal or carnal way that seems so very normal to Dean. I have simply… never had occasion. No angel has. It is not something we are thought of or expected to do. That did not seem to deter Dean from simply walking outside after proclaiming the sexuality of two men I know nothing about and expecting me to follow. I spend the entire drive attempting to understand any connection that had to our present situation.

When we arrived… The location where we were… I did not know what to think or whether I should think at all. Implications are confounding, and Dean had the gall to bring an angel into the den of iniquity, a brothel of all places. What is Dean attempting to have me do? And here? This made no sense in any spectrum I have any grasp on, but Dean seems in his element, at ease while imbibing. Perhaps that will help with this feeling I cannot name that has burrowed its way into my mind.

A woman walked up and asked for my name, but I could not answer. I did not know if I should. Whether Dean came to my rescue or to my downfall, I am not sure. Her name was Chastity, to which Dean replied that it was kismet. I had no words, instead I found myself being guided to another room and away from Dean. This is lust, this is a deep entire opposite of what an angel is. But Dean did say he rebelled. Did he? Does this entail that? And Dean, why is currency involved? This is a last day on earth? This is not how I envisioned when he had mentioned it.

Chastity guided me to a room in a velvet hallway. I could sense even she was nervous as well, but any emotional stimulation beyond that was shut off. This was work to her, a way to pay for her ability to study in a local university. Unbeknownst to her,  her mind was open for me to see. She began untying my tie when I spoke to her, gave her what I thought would be peace of mind concerning her father, Jean, running off when she was young and how it was not because of her birth. Her father despised his current job. That is why he ran off. He is charged with being an ignorant father, but it is not Chastity’s fault. It only enraged her, admittedly understandably so I realize as I look back on it. All this I told to Dean, who proceeded to not stop laughing the entire way out of the brothel. I did not see the humor. If this entire industry is run on “absent fathers” than which industry is Dean speaking about? What did Dean do?

If anything, the past 24 hours seemed to serve Dean more than it did me. He actually smiled willingly and without force. Ten years were shaved from his face in that moment, even if I did not understand why this entire experience seemed amusing to him. No matter, it is not my job to understand anymore.

Dean hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. Years. He was silent on the way back after, glancing every once in a while in my direction. I did not know what to ask or say to him, but his mind was in his memories, the very few bright ones he has of his childhood, before this life took over most likely. It was better to let him relive those than break the spell he put himself under then. It was on the way back that he told me about Sam and what had transpired. Memories of early hunts, times in where he and Sam would laugh after a gruesome day.

“That is what they are now, Cas.” He said. “Memories. Now it’s all just…different.” He grew quiet once more after, and it remained that way throughout the night, Dean having found a “raggedy ol’ grandma couch” and sleeping for two hours until just before sunrise. I relayed to him the rest of the plan when he awoke, but not before he nearly punched me in reflex. I was still not used to his concept of personal space, I suppose.

         We made our way to St. Pete’s early, setting our trap quickly and timely. No angel could pass through the flames once this has begun. There’s an almost open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial before it was all a matter of time.

         As expected Raphael did not show in the patient’s room. I knew he could see us, therefore we needed to give the impression that we were expecting him to. Two nurses escorted us out when the fire alarms went off, and Raphael revealed himself back in the abandoned house, falling into our plan easily.

I could feel it, feel the power radiating off Raphael. An archangel is never to be messed with, not willingly, yet I knowingly provoked him, even after he had smote me in the past. No holy oil separated us in that moment, which meant Raphael could have ended me in any instant. But Dean continued the act. He began speaking, bantering as if this was not in fact an archangel will infinitely more power than I have ever held. His words turned into taunts at times, but Raphael will not kill him. He would not dare spite Michael in that way. Dean merely needed to get him to move to where the oil was spread, concealed by the dust and darkness of the building. Our best laid plans managed to work, which allowed for me to ask the questions I needed to know.

The storm raged outside, harder and harder with every passing second. Even then Dean continued to crack jokes, enough to make me wonder if he was sane or if his time apart from his brother had gone to his head. God did not work in any post office and I have no idea what Chinese basket trick is, but He is alive. He has to be, I know it. No matter what Raphael says God must be alive.

Dean is speaking for me, continuing the conversation while I figure out our best course of action. Raphael says the angels are tired. All they want is paradise. God is not here anymore to govern over them, tell them what they need to do...But that can’t be true. The events of the 20th century happened because they were written to be, as bloody and horrible as they were. But that does not mean the 21st century will have the same fate.

Dean’s words would only go so far before Raphael striked. The windows blew open as the story cascaded down on the house, but that did not stop us. Holy fire could not be extinguished by natural water, not easily. I needed to get answers.

If God is dead, why did I return? Why did I come back?

…

No. No, it can’t be. It can’t add up. Lucifer did not raise me. That can’t be. I needed to leave. There were no more answered to learn, but Raphael was staying there. He would stay there for his lies. I have no doubt he will find me one day, but for now he is my little bitch. Dean followed me out, whatever jovial tone he had replaced with one of either awe or shock, I could not tell. I had much on my mind. Thankfully the Impala had not been hurt in the sudden storm.

We drove aimlessly away, Dean at the helm and me no longer paying attention to the surrounding landscape. My mind was concentrated inward before Dean spoke.

I know he has voiced his concerns regarding my mission, but if anyone were to understand it would be him. He has searched for his father when all facts pointed to him being dead, but that did not stop Dean. There was still a faith there, an ingrained loyalty to not believing until he has seen a body. The two situations do play mirrors I suppose.

What do I believe?

I believe he’s out there, somewhere and somehow, but this did not start without Dean admitting something to himself, and it was not about his father. This attempt at quelling my thoughts did not come without a mutual benefit. What about Dean?

His response is something he may believe for now, but that does not mean it will remain his sentiment in a few days’ time. He may claim to be happy, but the scars on his heart say otherwise. But if he prefers to be alone like he says he does, then I should not intrude. Absent fathers are not the only strings that connect us anymore, but that does not mean I cannot see there are souls that need to heal first before they can accept retribution. He needs to speak with Sam, something he will not do should he continue with me. Even I can see that.

He is free to be himself, but that does not mean he does not require help at times as well. This is my form of doing just that.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	26. 5x04 The End Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because this chapter split into Endverse there's a 2009!Castiel and a Endverse!Castiel entry split over two days. I hope you like them!
> 
> This is 2009!Castiel (Or present Castiel)

Report:

 I was gifted a phone after my last meeting with Dean, though that did not constitute my ability in knowing how to use it. My contacts spoke of the Colt, a weapon capable of killing any supernatural being; while it was in demonic hands it appeared it was still intact. This was the nature of my call, but unfortunately somehow a third voice entered our conversation.

“You have five minutes left on your phone card,” would interject Dean’s and my conversation every thirty seconds, which would in turn be overwritten by the sound of the trucks and cars passing on the highway I was on. All this combined paved the way for any semblance of patience that I had to fracture with every passing cycle. Dean only found it amusing, however. The voice did not speak to him after all. It had been a week since the events of Waterville, Maine, and Dean still refused to see his brother, but that was not my place to question. Dean wished to kill the devil without Sam’s help, therefore I thought it at least best to give him the information I had heard revolving the Colt. If he was to do this then I would not allow for him to do it alone. He has already proven he cannot do it once. I will not allow a second time.

He stopped me before I could go instantly there, his voice barely over the sound of the woman saying I now had less than three minutes to speak. Dean needed time to himself to tend to human self-sustenance. Eating, sleeping in this particular case; human necessities that are obsolete to angels. I had forgotten… It makes sense that Dean wished for some time to rest, most likely even better for it. A life on this road with a life like Dean Winchester’s undoubtedly leaves little to no room for periods of long rest. All Dean asked of me was four hours. I should give him that else matters turn worse. I do not know how long humans need to rest in order to function properly… In hindsight it should truly be something I should know. Healing is second-nature, but not knowing how hours compute to ample rest is rather depressing actually. I am an angel, but why do I find myself not knowing the details of my charge?

Dean needs four hours. This is now information I will remember. It is time to rewrite that area of knowledge, learn more about this world if we are truly to protect it. I could barely learn how to manage a phone after all. How little it appears I truly know.

He sounded tired on the phone. Driving sixteen hours must be extensive for humans. I can understand that, however. Dean’s car can be cramped after long periods of driving, but I have learned not to voice my opinions when it came to his coveted Impala. Yes, there is still much to learn if I do not understand how a man can have such a strong connection to a material possession that is his father’s car. 

He ended the call before I finished speaking. Sleep must be an ultimate overlord for Dean to do that. I’ll just… wait here then. On the side of a highway in the small hours of the dark night. 

I now found myself with four hours of silence, an appointment having been made. The cars can be rather loud as they drive by, each their own color and model, a character I had not noticed etched into the miles of the tires that carry them. Each was driven by a human carrying his or her own story, their miles on the asphalt a timestamp of their presence there. Why do they drive so far? What are their goals? The world is ending around them and yet on this street there is nothing more than a displacement of gravel as cones of light shine through the trees every few minutes, dwindling into one or two in an hour as one night becomes the next day. 

So this is Earth; this is the quiet side of a world in turmoil. Even Jimmy spoke to me then from within his subconscious. He said this is a horrible highway road that “should not win any awards for the most lights for people,” but those that passed through it were either on their way to start or end their day, the bridge just up the road being the segue from the city into a suburban house complex nearby. It is a quiet, quaint life; there is not meant to be action or danger to be found here. Only antlers and the whistle of the trees as they remain while the cars disappear. 

“That might be a reason people like to drive, you know,” Jimmy continued. “People like to see that they live next to nature and can coexist with it without destroying it. Up here where there aren’t many lights you can see the stars better, even if sometimes you can’t hear people over the phone.”

“Are you implying that this may be a reason as to why Dean decides to drive instead of accepting my offer of instant transportation?” I wondered aloud. Anyone that could have heard me would have thought me speaking to myself. In a way, I suppose it looked like I was.

“I don’t know, Castiel, but maybe.” Jimmy responded. “He’s got his reasons and you don’t know them yet, but he’s lived here more than you have in a way. I’d take what he does and look into it—look into  _why_. You want to learn more about humanity, right? Start with the details.”

The details…

It was a thought, but not one I could entertain fully with the Apocalypse at hand. Perhaps should we somehow make our way out of this I could, but until then I had an appointment to keep. Jimmy’s and my internal conversation had lasted five hours instead of four. The last few rays of the night would begin to break into the scarlet that marked the dawn in half an hour. Dean is in Kansas City.

What I did not expect was to find him with Zachariah, Dean all but pinned to a wall in the motel room. Something had happened; and it had left Dean shaken to his core even if he did not reveal it completely. Zachariah had shown him something, something of his own creation to manipulate Dean’s mind once more. Neither of them sensed my presence, but I could not let Zachariah near Dean once I had seen them. I grabbed Dean’s shoulder and transported us out before Zachariah could advance onto him and show him other false illusions once more. Whatever it was that Dean had seen was enough. 

He did not realize where he was at first, but I could feel his shoulder’s hunched in fear…What had he been shown? How did Zachariah find him? He was relieved to see that it was I that retrieved him when he calmed down enough. I do not know how to understand emotions completely, but I thought Dean was struggling with a few in that moment, either separating the experience he had from what was happening currently. These are underlying emotions, cracks in his surface that are coming through. Dean seemed more… raw somehow. I recognized that face from somewhere. That was the face of a person that had been shown a future he wishes to forget. A fate worse than death.

He reached for my soldier and gripped it tightly, his words only amplified by the strength he held. “Don’t ever change.” Something grave happened to him, but he would not speak of it now if I asked. He needed time to… rest. More time.

Dean’s warning of Jehovah’s witnesses made sense with the little information I was receiving from my contacts in Heaven. We will have to be more careful, but he grew quiet after that, instead calling Sam. He actually called Sam. Whatever it was that Zachariah had shown him was enough for Dean to reconcile with his brother. I do not know if I should thank him for that or not, but regardless Dean left to reconvene with Sam then, myself continuing my search elsewhere. 

For now, this is the end of the rift that separated the Winchesters and the beginning of the road to reparation. That is more than enough. 

Yours,

Castiel


	27. 5x04 The End Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Endverse!Castiel (with a few liberties in canon, so it's still canon compliant :)

Okay,

Ever get that itch at the base of your scalp that you can’t really scratch without looking like you haven’t showered in a while? Yeah, well, Chuck had it during the meeting this morning and I do not understand why the man does not go find himself a stick like the rest of us. It is a simple task, to satisfy one’s needs and not suffer pain over nondangerous inconveniences. It is human, yet Chuck’s almost acting like that’s what he’s supposed to do. But it’s none of my business, so who the hell else cares but him, right?

Morning runs went about as normal as we can get out here. August 1, 2014, and we’re no better for it than we were a year ago. Dean’s still on his crusade, though. I can’t really stop him anymore. Can’t really do much of anything cooped up in the camp anyway. I’m just the teacher to what little children we’ve managed to protect and the chief strategist. Funny how a strategist isn’t allowed outside on our fearless leader’s orders. Can’t say I blame him, but it does give me time to tend to the decadence that can be found in what little sanctuary we’ve created ourselves here… If you’re definition of post-apocalyptic sanctuary is Camp Chitaqua, anyway. 

Writing today almost feels like an anniversary or something. I guess in a way it is, but in other ways it’s not. Dean’s always a little more of a hardass on the day he lost Sam, but no one in that camp knows that I think except maybe Chuck, but with Heaven’s departure so with it went his prophet abilities. Why have a prophet of the Lord when there was no more prophetic gospel to write in this wasteland of the world we now find ourselves living in. It’s not all bad, though.

For one thing, there are now five women coming bi-weekly to my… strategy meetings. They are meetings of self-reflecting, or ingesting the nature of the world around us and using it as a mouthpiece to discover the inner feelings of one’s heart. Like the kaleidoscope of a dragonfly’s eye, we have banded together and unified into one being capable to seeing the world around it. In this way, we are each a fragment of total perception. Just one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now… the key to this total shared perception is, it’s surprisingly physical…

Dean had found his way to my cabin then. He looked… different? The clothes themselves were the biggest indicator, but I gave him our traditional welcome regardless before excusing our meeting. Our fearless leader needed to speak with me. It was only after this Dean fully entered and we were alone that I could truly see him for what he was. My present Dean and I had already had a conversation about labels. It was clear from his face that he had no idea what it was that I was referring to. This Dean was not him. Somehow, this was Dean from a previous year. You could tell as clear as day, or at least I could. It’s one of the few things I still can do after all this time with no powers.

So it was Zachariah that had sent him. Zachariah from the end of 2009, the beginning of the end that would lead us here. This was all an illusion for Dean, but I had no power to change that. This was Zachariah’s version of events that he wanted this version of Dean to see. Interesting…

It’s not like warning him would help, though. Zachariah would just pull him out or prevent me from doing so. Better to just let events transpire. He world’s already on the brink of total destruction courtesy of the untreatable, unkillable, Croatoan virus. Nothing much left to do except see how this younger, freer version of Dean sees himself now. I thought he was taller back then. Guess being an angel compensates for something.

He asked if I could fly him back. Me. “Strap on my wings” and fly him to his page in the calendar. I never thought I’d hear those kinds of jokes again. It was almost refreshing, a nice lemonade in the warm sun of an unbearable day. What a downpour that awaited this naïve 2009 Dean. How hasn’t realized a thing about himself yet, not really. To think it’s technically been five years that separate the two Deans and yet they can be completely different… but the rumble of the cars outside beat me to anything else I could’ve said. Looks like our fearless leader was coming back earlier than he’d planned. I can understand why now, seeing as to how what with a past-version of himself in the camp. The rumors would soon start spreading if 2014 Dean does not do anything soon.

2014 Dean and 2009 Dean…

No, I’m not writing out their names so much. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. From now on it’s 09 and 14. Dean will go by years so separate them. Try to keep up, whatever version of Dean that reads this or whoever does end up reading these damn notes in a book at the end of humanity. 

14 came with Yeager and Rick. If they were toasting it meant one of them was going to die, unfortunately. That’s become the salute to life, 14’s own personal way of saying goodbye. No one’s caught on to the pattern but me. That’s why I’m the strategist. Yeager was dead before he hit the ground, all in front of 09. I could see the rumors start spearing through the camp right then. Our fearless leader talking with himself. If our lives weren’t screwed over I’m sure that would have made news somewhere. 

I can’t look at 14, not in the eyes really. Looking at both of them, two side of the same coin and yet it’s almost like they were just two entirely different planets altogether; revolving in parallel paths. Heh, I should use that for my next eulogy orgy. The women will like that. Dean might not, but the others will.

14 took 09 to a spare cabin to have a nice little chat. I could hear 14’s yells from 20 feet away as I stood guard. No way was I letting anyone that 14 doesn’t trust into something like this. Our fearless leader had enough to worry about.

14 called Risa and me in a little while after his talk with 09. He’d found the Colt. Our tortured demon lead had proven to be reliable after all, but after five years of this I was no longer surprised. Risa had already heard the rumor of 14’s doppelganger by that point, therefore she did not seem as fazed by seeing both Deans in the same room. I wonder about what she would say if she knew who I really was…

She was testy, Risa. I did not know why until 09 of all people explained the situation. 14 Had been at Jane’s cabin last night. I couldn’t help but hide my smile at that. I’d forgotten we still used codenames around here. It’s the apocalypse, but that didn’t mean people were open. Sorry, Risa.

14 hid his emotion of course. He’d lost that part of him after years of this. I had too, instead choosing to bury it in the life I’ve made for myself. What other choice do I have but re-adhere the solder I once was, huh? But that’s not the point; the point is 14 had a flimsy plan that I saw through right away.

Lucifer was in the heart of Crote territory that would also be infested with demons. 14 wanted to fight his way inside and kill the devil, speaking about it as if it were just another Thursday outing. He already knew my opinion before I gave it, but of course I was going. Is that even a question anymore? My only concern was why 09 was coming. If 09 died, then doesn’t that mean 14 does too? I may not be an angel anymore, but does that not fall under some kind of time warp mayhem people used to care about before it all went to hell? 14 wasn’t going to have it, though. I expected nothing less from our fearless leader. 14 made up his mind and there’s no reversing it. He lost that ability the same day he lost Sam 5 years ago. At least 09 was emotive, willing to take a stand against you now, 14. There is a reason I like past you. 

Risa and I left to round up grunts for midnight’s climb. The compound we wanted to hit was a fair distance’s ride from here. More than 6 hours at least, meaning we would get there in the morning. It was the dawn of the last day, I knew. I saw it in Dean’s eyes when he condemned us to slaughter, but I was not going to say anything. I had no power anymore.

09 rode with me on the way there. It reminded me of before, when we used to ride around in Dean’s cherished baby, hunting and thinking we could actually find God and stop Lucifer. Maybe if things had been different that could’ve worked out, and maybe not. But 6 hour car rids in cramped cars… One last time was all I needed. Maybe that’s why 14 didn’t want to ride this time. He always knew what I needed, just like I knew his needs. Funny how life throws you those things like that.

09’s glad I “don’t have a stick in my ass” anymore. Haven’t heard that in a while. He’s in shock with me and my appearance, I knew. He asked why this happened. I tell him. I tell him that I’m not an angel anymore. Hell, I’m practically human. The angels left, and with them the power, the “mojo”. I’m useless now; no power; no help; no guidance anymore. I’m just… human. I felt pain that stayed there for two months last year, the brunt of a leg snapped in two while escaping crotes. If it hadn’t been for 14 I’d have died from the infection within the week, but Dean toughed it out and hoarded supplies. I never really got why until he started showing up to the cabin after that. Like I said, funny thing, life.

…09 thought to “Welcome me to the club.” He still had humor, he still had that edge of sass… but that had no place here in this world. Not anymore. I used to belong to a different club, a more prestigious one. Now I’m powerless, hapless…hopeless. It’s the end of the world, so why not spend it in decadence and women, blind to the world outside and instead living within the mind’s eye? That’s what decadence is after all. That’s how I roll now. 

My Dean ended up getting the stick up his ass because I lost mine, in a way. He became our “Fearless Leader.” There’s a reason that’s his name. He lost the only thing he feared losing five years ago. Then he wouldn’t let me out of the camp for the same reason. What happened to me as a result… just became my life.

09 stayed quiet after that. I didn’t blame him. This was a version of me he’d never thought could exist. I thought the same way once as well, before I withered into nothing more than a husk of an angel. We contented ourselves to watching the sky brighten on our way to Jackson County Sanitarium… on our way to my funeral.

I’m not blind. I know Dean and I know his tells. He can mask them however well he wants; that doesn’t stop my years of knowing him. How easily we entered was the biggest clue they could have given us to this being a trap, but this was Dean’s vendetta. It has been five years in the making and there was no changing his mind, even at the cost of the friends he has salvaged around him. 09 saw it to, for better or for worse. 14 came back alone, but not without turning to me first. He knew. He always knew.

We split into our ranks then, Risa and Mitch with me and Dean alone. I would lead the group into the front of the building. This would be the last time we see each other.

I’m leaving this out here on the battlefield. Maybe 09 will find it before Zach grabs him back or maybe it’ll burn with this place, but treat it as a warning or as a testament. Here lies the soldiers of Camp Chitaqua. Men and Women searching for salvation, and one man and a former angel that failed to stop them.

 

This is the end of my story. May Dean find a way to change it.

Castiel


	28. 5x05 Fallen Idols

Report:

Dean has called in the interim of these past three weeks, but neither he nor Sam have found anything regarding the whereabouts of the Colt. We have gained no ground in the last three weeks but locations of where we have been. But the roads we have walked are meaningless if we have nothing to show for it. For myself, I am afraid I have found similar conclusions. The amulet has not even glimmered in any direction over the past three weeks. I have searched holy sites, places of worship, and followed leads that seemed credible at the time. All have resorted to nothing for now, but there is hope in the darkest of times.

Our conversation has not escaped memory, the one Dean and I shared before he went to speak to his brother. There is a road that lies ahead for Sam and Dean paved with good intentions as well as a darker destiny that neither of them wishes to acknowledge fully. There are times where I find myself wondering just what it is that causes that rift, but I know nothing of the inner workings of man. Not how I thought I did; I acknowledge that now.

I have come across countless decsiples and false prophets, each telling their own version of where my Father is. None are true, as much as they believe otherwise. Their stories are either angelic intervention or simple lies covering up a greater story, one they do not wish to acknowledge. There are no recorded sighting.

But I will persevere. Sam and Dean have still not yet found the Colt while Lucifer continues to circle his vessel. Heaven continues searching for me as well, making my mission all the more difficult. On more than one occasion has a religious human attempted to call for the guidance of Zachariah. It is beginningto be exhausting, and I have run out of minute on that infernal phone. I had to purchase a new one.

We are on the verge of a precipice here, a scale that is could tip in either direction with nothing but a small breath of air to separate life and death. Angels are meant to serve, yet even that does not seem to garner what I thought it once did anymore. Instead I find myself with no light to show me the way out. This is left to my choices and me, now. I do not know if that is good. All of these humans call God one name or another, an idol to be revered and one to be weary of. Fallen idols are nothing if not a representation of what they once stood for, but my Father has not fallen. Lucifer was the one to have fallen. For myself, I rebelled. Neither of us is an idol or deserves to even share the same heritage as our Father. There is religion and there is celebrity, truth mixed in with the world of gossip and fiction. Some prey on those with faith while others put faith that we will provide. It is all a neverending cycle with too many players to keep track of.

And yet, this is still the world in which I am a part of. We exist to serve, to provide for the faithful and battle the fallen.

What side does that put me on, then? It is not Lucifer’s, but likewise I cannot find myself able to agree with the side of heaven anymore. Where does that put me then?

…

Dean is calling. He and Sam both sound confused concerning a chil—

I need to leave for Nebraska immediately.

Yours,

Castiel


	29. 5x06 I Believe the Children Are Our Future

Report:

         The life of a figurine is both timeless and exceedingly dreary. There is only one viewpoint to stare at for eternity unless someone comes to turn your head for you. Children stare at you like a toy they wish to move in order to fulfill a fantasy, but instead all you can do it curse at them for having turned them into this infernal model to begin with.

         Suffice to say, this was not how I expected the next forty-eight hours to go, being trapped in a child’s house while Sam and Dean attempted to _stop_ the killing of the cambion, the antichrist. For hunters of exceptional detail, they can be rather irresponsible and reckless when it comes to these decisions. But I should start from the beginning.

         I was in ____ when I received a message from Dean. It seems they were as close to finding the Colt as I was to finding my Father. I arrived as quickly as I could. A cambion is far more dangerous than any human or demon alike. We need to end him before Lucifer finds him. And for now this thing was simply _happy_ , biding its time. There _will_ be Armageddon once Lucifer finds it, and that is not a phrase I will take lightly.

         Sam bartered for it. He asked that I reconsider my stance.

         “What if we tell him the truth and he doesn’t go dark side. Maybe he’ll make the right choice.” He knew what he was saying, the implications of those mirroring someone else.

         How absurd.

Sam Winchester can by no means be the advocate for such a plea. If anything, it is all the more reason this boy needed to be dealt with. I could not believe the words coming out of Sam’s mouth. I can’t take that chance and have it destroy the world, again. We are meant to protect this world; I have only ever destroyed it.

I went to the boy’s house. His parents were taken care of diligently, their dreams replaced with placated ones so that they do not stir while I carry out the deed.

…

There is nothing worse than the loss of a child for them. All they wanted was a child to rear, to have a light in their lives after their battles…

 No, I need to do this. This was not a child. This was demon spawn.

But it was also incredibly strong, which meant I had to tread carefully. This thing could disappear at the glimpse of a thought if I was not careful. I needed to handedly this as swiftly but as cautiously as possible.

This is how I found myself in the cast of a five inch tall human toy. One that could still see and hear. As a result, being manhandled by Dean was not pleasant.

I could see Dean’s look as he inspected the plaster I knew this toy vessel must have been made from. He looked confused, almost pained. Why? It is not as if I was dead.

“We’ll fix you up man. Just… Stand tight.” He placed me on the shelf facing towards them in the living room. I was wrong before. _This_ was even more absurd. I was helpless to do anything.

“I did that.” The boy said. Yes, if that were not obvious before. This boy had a flare for dialogue.

Dean spoke to the boy, stating some bizarre words involving a Superman and X-Men. There were no such things as either. No ordinary humans could do even the smallest of things that this boy was capable of. There is no school, otherwise the angels would have eradicated it. Unless…

Does Dean know something I do not?

Before the conversation could go any further, however, Dean was trust to the wall. I felt my stiff feet wobble, but thankfully I did not fall to the ground. Otherwise I fear I would have gotten trampled by battling feet, something I do not know if this plaster vessel could handle.

The battle only escalated with the demon that had entered the room. Jesse’s mother. She spoke to him, tried to sway him in her favor. If anything it unlocked his powers even further. I felt the flames below me rocket out of the fireplace. Toys do not bode well with fire…

Glass shattered, frames from the walls fell, the entire house shook with the cambion’s power. I felt my body hit the floor as it was covered in the shatters of the falling ceiling. My eyes now turned to the dark floors, sounds being my only way of knowing what was going on. Sam’s plan seemed to have failed. This boy would be the knight to Lucifer’s king in a matter of months.

Only it stopped then. The house, the fire next to my body, the cracking sounds. The house grew as still as if it had not just suffered the equivalent of a tornado in the living room. The boy stopped in order to listen to Sam; he listened to the truth. All of it; the war, the Apocalypse, his origins; Sam told him everything.

“She said I was half demon, is that true?” I heard the tremors in a frighten child then. This was not the voice of a demon that was about to unleash his wrath. This was a child, a human learning how he fit into the world.

And I had nearly ended his life by being close-minded. I see that now.

“Yes, but you’re half human, too,” Sam replied, and it all made sense.

Sam was atoning for his sins through this boy, acknowledging his past. I could hear it in his tone, even if I could not see him at all. This time, this was the voice of a man that has learned he was a child that did not want to see how he fit into the world. This was the voice of a man that had seen too much pain as a result of his hand.

I suppose I am not the only one that learned something today.

There was more scuffle after that before I felt a hand unceremoniously lift me from the ground. Dean.

“He tried to kill me,” Jesse spat. I do not blame him for his distrust in me.

“Right, but you see,” I heard Dean speak. “He’s a good guy. He was just confused.”

Confused…

Yes, Dean. I was.

Jesse did not turn me back then. It was better that way. I could dwell on my thoughts for a while longer before the subject was breeched again. I needed to sort these thoughts out if I am to realize something more to all of this.

Their following conversation, Sam sitting down with Jesse on equal terms. Dean followed Sam’s movement. They spoke to him like a person, a child that had just gone through supernatural trauma. I suppose he had. For such a child, Jesse Turner took it quietly. I do not know how he did it. His entire world just crashed in on itself, but he was somehow okay. Maybe that is how humans cope with all of this.

Jesse relieved me of my plaster vessel after the Winchester had gone upstairs to check on him. He studied me curiously, but before I could say anything more he vanished. He fixed everyone in town, everyone that was still alive at least, but with a boy a strong as he is there is no way we will be able to find him. Not unless he wishes to be found. He knows now, however. He knows who he is. I only pray that will be enough.

_“He was just confused…”_

 It appears there is more that I need to learn to absolve this confusion.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	30. 5x07 The Curious Case of Dean Winchester

Report:

 

            What is time, what is it really? What did my Father think of it when he created this world? It is the literal ocean that runs through here and yet all that is left in its wake is nothing but its absence, a thought turned memory instantaneously. What is it all, truly? What is running through a maze of this world if it means finding God is not at the end?

            …

            It has been months, and still, nothing… I must only be missing something, something obvious that is causing the light to not so much as even dim. It is all one human card game with no winners but time.

            I have been to Sedona, Baltimore, Seattle… the list goes on. Churches, basilicas, burial grounds; all with no traces, but what is even more unsettling is that neither Sam nor Dean have been responding to my messages. Perhaps the phone ran out of minutes entirely, but I thought I had purchased an ample supply after the last time where that was almost the case.

            I had to search for them. It needed to take precedence. This is the Apocalypse; should Sam and Dean die before we can end this would spell doom for the entire world. My Father and His abysmal messages would simply have to wait. Wherever He is I wonder if He is laughing at my incompetence for being unable to have tracked Him down yet.  

            They were not with Bobby, who seemed to have had his battle with time recently. He was no older than I last saw him, and yet there was a different emotion there, something I could not place. His soul was no better, its layers having chosen to conceal themselves somehow. I thought only Dean had figured out how to do that, but it appears Bobby now has as well. His soul has aged 25 years in the body of a man that has only seen a few weeks worth of time since the last we spoke. Something was off.

            Bobby spoke to me at length about the last case he spent with the boys, but it appeared the witch they grappled with was destroyed, all of the Winchesters’ lives and time spared. That did not explain the disappearance.

            Though God remained in the wind, finding Sam and Dean was not difficult, not for me. They left clues, things I have come to learn other angels do not care for or realize can be used: the specific brand of toothpaste, how often a massage machine is used in the motels, the amount of time in between check-in and check-out blocks for certain motels; all of this has allowed for me to triangulate location.

            I found a television set... in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, of all things, but the picture was skewed, fuzzy. Almost as if time had stopped there––

 

Yours,

Castiel


	31. 5x08 Changing Channels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties in where I thought Gabriel might have stashed Castiel.

Report:

         Sam and Dean were on that television, strapped to what appeared to be entire machines whose sole purpose was to hurt them. How they found themselves confined in such a place I do not yet know, but before I could change the channel or find a way to begin to figure out how to go about this situation I found myself starting at two steel double doors. The room itself was bare, walls that had no significance but to hold these doors. I heard screams on the other side, a call to action. It had to be Sam and Dean. I had not heard from them for days.

         I began banging on the door just as the room started to fill with smoke. Whomever was in control of this world now knew where I was, but that would not stop me from getting out. I needed to get out.

         The doors slid open automatically, like they do in Heaven when Zachariah allows for another angel to enter an important area. This is odd; are the angels behind this?

         “Cas?” It was Dean that had called first. They were both still strapped to those bizarre contraptions I had seen them in on the television screen in the warehouse. What is going on? Another man behind Sam all but retaliated in shock. His aura was strangely familiar… but my mind was too preoccupied with other thoughts to think on it further at that point. I should have realized it then.

         “Is this another trick?” Sam sounded apprehensive. It occurred to me then that perhaps this was not the first situation they had found themselves in in the last few days. If Sam was referring to tricks then the angels were not behind this after all.

         “It’s me,” I assured Sam. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

         “Us? What are you doing here?” Dean sounded surprised. Why did he still sound surprised…

         I vaguely registered the man that had been startled by my presence scrambling for something, but he did not seem to pose an immediate threat at the moment and I had to remind Dean once more of his place in this world. “I’ve been looking for you, you’ve been missing for days.” Of course I would look for them; the Winchesters are needed.

         “Well, get us out of here!” Sam called. He looked pained, his legs unbalanced. I suspect he would fall if he had the ability to.

         “Let’s go,” I moved towards them when I felt myself dissipate, the scene before me going black and noise filling my ears. It was like the static on the television screen. I could not see anything else before my head hit solid ground.

 

~

 

“Do you think he hit his head?”

         “I don’t know, Rose, but he certainly looks like he’s not having too much fun down there.”

         I opened my eyes to find two beings staring back, though who they were and where I was remained a mystery.

         “Where are Sam and Dean?” I asked them. If anything, they might know the answer, but the man began pulling a small pen-like item and began inspecting me before answering. I thought it best then to not answer any more questions.

         Instead of stood and began advancing towards the man, his hair spiked as he shielded a blonde woman behind him. Only then was I able to look at where I was, and where I was appeared to be some sort of control room to a ship. Was this another set like the one where Sam and Dean were? Were they all connected somehow?

         “Woah there, mate! It’s okay, we’re all friends here!” the man called. He had a British accent, but I had never seen him before. He was not an angel, but likewise he was not human either. This was unsettling.

         “Who are you? Where am I? What is going on?”

         “It’s okay, you’re safe! We found you and picked you up from a ditch.” This time it was the woman that spoke, the accent similar. “I’m Rose Tyler, and this is—“

         “The Trickster,” I answered. That must be what he was. He was not human, and this seemed to be his control room. The only questions that remained was if the woman was being held against her will and just what it was that this creature wanted with Sam and Dean. Though, the woman looked at peace, even if she herself looked almost completely human. There was something unsettling, however.

         “I go by many names, but I’d have to say that would be the first time I heard that one. I’m—“ It was confession enough. I did not need to hear any more.

         I had my angel blade despite how I was found, a fatal mistake that they let me keep it. Unsheathing it, I engaged the man. He was caught off guard, dodging the first attack and retreating to what appeared to be the main control panel. I tried to stop him from pushing any buttons, but the woman jumped then.

         “What are you doing? I am trying to protect you!” I called, not wishing to hurt her. Why was she defending this man? He had Sam and Dean, enslaved them somehow and caught them in his trap. If he was the Trickster than he needed to be stopped… only, this world looked far too real for even the most powerful Trickster to have conjured.

          I was frozen in place then, my eyes now being my only source of movement. The Trickster had pushed a button on the panel to immobilize me.

         “It appears you’ve also been caught into this little televised trap, my friend. You didn’t let me finish,” he spoke, guiding Rose away from where I not stood, powerless. “I’m the Doctor. I thought I had met at least most every species in this galaxy, though, I must say I’ve never met your species of alien. Tell me, what planet are you from?”

         I felt my mouth loosen then. “My name is Castiel. Let me go, I need to find Sam and Dean. I need to free them.”

         “Well, hello then, Castiel! Okay, but on one condition: you do not harm us and we will not harm you.”

         “I agree to your terms.” Suddenly my vessel was my own once more. I could feel my powers being blocked slightly, as if someone was preventing me from attempting to escape. They underestimated my resolve. “I must leave. There are two people in danger.”

         “I’m afraid you can’t do that, mate,” Rose replied. “The thing that’s keeping you here doesn’t want you meeting up with your friends.”

         “The thing that is keeping me here is called a Trickster, but I have never heard of one having this much power before.” I walked around, locating a door that led to another corridor. “I am sorry, but I must at least try.” I went for the doorway.

         “No! Don’t go that way!” The Doctor—or however he wished to refer to himself as—attempted to stop me. Upon further inspection, it was clear to me that this creature was not even of Earth, but he was a figment of this trick. I needed to break out of this illusion, therefore if the Doctor said not to go somewhere than that is precisely where I had to enter.

         I heard the control room begin to explode suddenly, sparks flying as it attempted to stop me. I had figured out its plan.

         “You have to play your role, Castiel!” The one that was made to sound like Rose Tyler said. I elected to ignore her. My role was made for me and I rebelled against it. That part of my story has already been written.

         I entered the doorway as the entire corridor filled with black smoke.

 

~

 

         _Here’s your host! Alex Trebek!_

         The smoke led me to another stage, unnamed faces standing beside me behind podiums. There was an entire screen opposite where we were with another man walking out from just behind it. He gave me the same feeling as the first man in the stage where I had found Sam and Dean. That aura… It almost felt like apprehension, hesitation, nervousness that was coming from him. All three are understandable. He had somehow managed to trap the Winchesters, ask them to play their roles without expecting any sort of repercussions.

He had not been expecting me.

Even cameras were set up, an entire audience of people watching expectedly and waiting for cues. This felt all too real; too detailed. No trickster could have this power. Sam and Dean had to have been wrong about what they were dealing with.

“Hello, hello!” This new man called to a paper audience. “Welcome to another episode of Jeopardy! This week we have an honored guest with us, one that I personally have not seen for quite some time, but that is not important right now. What we all should really pay attention to is how he plays the game and see where it takes us!” The man looked at me. I assumed him to be the person they had announced from the beginning, but part of me wondered if even the name was an illusion.

I could not move this time, my hands restrained to handcuffs I could not break out of. It seems this creature learned to not underestimate me. I would not leave this place without a fight.

The screen lit up behind where the illusionary Alex stood, categories and numbers filling the screen.

_The Apocalypse_

_Angels and Deanmons_

_Human Customs_

_The Winchesters_

_Playing our Rolls_

The categories were announced one by one, but it all felt wrong. There was something I was missing, and the answer to it was patiently waiting for me to pick a category.

“Who are you,” I asked instead. This Alex wished for me to play a game I had no interest in. “Where are Sam and Dean.” It was not a question. It was a command.

“Your precious babies are fine, my friend,” The illusionary Alex answered. “They’re learning where they fit into this world the same way you’ll learn about yourself in a bit. Now, pick a category.”

“Where are Sam and Dean,” I reiterated instead. That was when one of the other humans next to me lunge, punching me in the nose with strength no human should possess. I felt the aura shift from the illusionary Alex to the man beside me instead. Not even a trickster would have enough power to harm an angel.

“You are not a Trickster.”

“Ah, you’re catching on now, but I can’t have you interfering, my man.”

“We know each other.”

“Oh, looks like you’re catching on a little too fast now,” the man laughed. “But humor me. Pick a category or something else will happen.”

This man refused to look me in the eye the entire time we have spoken or fought. “If I play your game will you answer my questions?”

“That’s how this whole game works, Castiel.”

“Fine,” I looked at the categories once more. “Tell me about the Winchesters.”

“For how much?”

“What?”

“Numbers, man. Which number categories? 100? _500_?”

“What does it matter?”

The man sighed. “Play you’re role before I have to punch you again.”

“I can assure you that will not happen a second ti—” I felt another pain sear through my head, my brow having been hit by the buzzers that were on the podium. This time the blow came from the other side, the aura having transferred there.

“You’re real slow for an angel, anyone ever tell you that?” The woman on the other side spoke. “Now, 100 through 500. Pick one.”

I could feel my head splitting. Unfamiliar pain deadened my senses. There was only one option left then. “Five-hundred.”

“Great! Alex!” The woman called to the other man, the one that hosted the original aura. “We’ll take The Winchesters for Five-buckaroonies!”

The screen changed, the table with numbers being replaced by a few phrases.

 

THIS WAS HOW DEAN WAS FOUND IN HELL WHEN AN ANGEL RAISED HIM FROM PERDITION. COINCIDENTALLY, IT IS ALSO HOW THE ANGEL CURRENTLY FEELS

 

Alex recited the words with clear precision, but the woman next to me did not look at the words once. “Well, Castiel? What’s the answer?”

I stared at the words, the significance not lost on me. But, even so, I do not know what this game entailed. “What do you want from me?”

“Answer the question, or rather in this case, question the answer,” the woman sounded mocking. The illusionary audience was rapt with interest, waiting for a response. I could still feel my wounds. I needed to get out.

“You’re probably wondering how to get out, huh? See your precious Winchesters again?” The aura shifted, returning to its original host in the illusionary Alex. This entire set was bizarre, this game unknown. I did not know how to win. I am a solder of Heaven and I do not know how to win.

“You have not answered one of my questions.”

The illusionary Alex sighed, annoyed. “Castiel, Castiel… The whole point of this game is answering questions. You just haven’t asked the right one yet. Now, answer the answer with your question.”

“This is absurd.”

“This is _Jeopardy_.”

“I do not know what that means.”

“Of course, you don’t. You didn’t get out much before you met them.”

“How do you know that?” I narrowed my eyes. This was not a Trickster, but this was not a normal supernatural creature either. “You ask me to play my role, but I do not know what you want me to say.”

“Answer. The. Question.”

I could feel the chains loosen, my time running out. He wanted me to answer the question? Why? What did he gain from me answering a question with another question? What was the point of this game?

What was my role?

…

I have had this discussion with myself before, the circumstances different and yet entirely the same. It was a chapter renewed and rewritten. It became clear then what the first words of that chapter would be.

 

THIS WAS HOW DEAN WAS FOUND IN HELL WHEN AN ANGEL RAISED HIM FROM PERDITION. COINCIDENTALLY, IT IS ALSO HOW THE ANGEL CURRENTLY FEELS

 

“Lost,” I answered, but I did not look at the screen. I couldn’t. This was emotion; this was doubt. This was something I did not want to deal with, not now. There was a war going on, an Apocalypse that had to be stopped. Feeling lost would not help anyone… but that did not mean it was not true.

I could not face it, not yet. Instead, I watched the chains widen to allow for my hands to slip through, though the ones at my feet remained intact.

“What was that? Answer in the form of a question please!”

“… What is Lost?” I would never understand this game.

A ding went off in the distance, like a bell had gone off somewhere else.

“Ah! Looks like the other stage is on-air and they’ve just gotten rid of Dean’s research assistant!” The illusionary Alex answered. “Congratulations, Castiel! Because you answered correctly I am giving you thirty seconds with your category.” The shackles on my feet disintegrated just as a door appeared instead. The world began to shake and loosen, the aura now gone. “Your time starts when you step through the door!”

The room grew small, back to white walls adorned with nothing expect for the door. It looked like the entrance to a motel room, a number being the only form of indication. I did not move, however. Not yet.

Lost.

Is that what this was? Do I have to come to terms with it? Is that my role?

I heard laughter on the other side, muffled voices speaking. It was only after a few minutes that I registered who it was.

Sam and Dean.

They sounded okay.

They took precedence at the moment. I needed to tell them about what I had learned. Any self-reflection that I could possibly have would simply have to wait.

Opening the door led me to a motel room, brightly colored walls and fake scenery the only indication that it was an illusion. Shrieks that became gasps followed my entrance, only then bringing back to attention my maimed face. I had not healed it. Instead I focused my attention.

“You okay?” Dean asked. Pleasantries would have to wait.

“I don’t have much time.” I needed to tell them.

“What happened?” Sam looked pained again, though this time I did not know from what.

“I got out,” I answered. The question still rung in the back of my mind. I answered correctly, and got out, but at what cost?

No, it does not matter now.

“Listen to me. Something is not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be.

“What thing—the Trickster?” Dean looked at the scars on my face. I could tell my excuse would not be enough for either of them, but that story could wait.

“If it is a Trickster.” My seconds were ticking; I could feel them.

“What do you mean?” Sam did not seem to want to be surprised.

My seconds were up. I felt a force push me to the wall, the plywood that it was made from shake the entire plane on its makeshift foundations. Before I could say anything else I felt tape zip my mouth, preventing any more speech. That was when I sense the aura again, this time followed by a voice. It couldn’t be. He was thought to be dead.

But when I stood up I could see the aura for what it was. His face was different, but he was no longer masking it. This was not a Trickster.

This was Gabriel. Archangel and one of the strongest angels in Heaven. Or he was before he disappeared after a mission, never having returned. Michael was furious, but he never searched for Gabriel. There had never been orders to. I thought it had been divine intervention. Yet, here he was, greeting me as if we were old friends.

My eyes were once more my only source of communication, but I fear it might not have been enough. Gabriel threw me into static once more before I could retaliate.

 

~

 

         I found myself in a bed, my wounds feeling as if they were freshly given. I was not strapped in, but the bed itself felt odd. I opened my eyes to find the room empty, but not without a candle lighting the hallway that I could see from the open door. Gabriel must have trapped me here somehow, but this place felt like a castle. It was another one of his illusions, magic filling through and stronger now that he did not have to hide behind a persona.

         A creature came in then, pointed ears and very little clothing covering it. “Master Gabriel thinks it’s time that you rest,” it spoke with a British accent once more. I am beginning to wonder what it is that Gabriel enjoys watching. “I urge that you stay here until my master returns.”

         “Where am I? Take me to Sam and Dean,” I spoke to the creature. It only served to look back at me before repeating what it had said previously. I saw it then that it would provide no more information, therefore I moved to exit the room.

         “You have already learned your role, Castiel,” I was beginning to get irritated by those words. “Master Gabriel does not want to see more harm done to you, but he cannot guarantee your safety if you step out onto the castle grounds!”

         “Tell my brother that I have more questions he will answer to.” I walked out without a second glance.

         I stepped out onto a large green field, posts extending out into the skies as if they were meant to be at such heights. The entire arena that encircled the field was full of cheers and shouting, as if this was a game about to start. Perhaps it was.

         Two groups, all holding brooms, gathered at the center of the grass. One was dressed in deep red and gold colors while the other silver green. They looked like uniforms, but no angels wore such uniforms unless their vessels had them. This was a different illusion, one having nothing to do with the world I know.

         “Are you the boy who lived?” A woman called from the cluster of people. Apparently, she had been calling to me.

         “No, my name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the lord.”

 She merely stared at me before continuing. “Well then, angel who lived. Finally come to show us your skills?”

         “Where is Gabriel? I need to find Sam and Dean.” I knew I would not get an answer, but I needed to find a way out of this illusion.

         “Sorry, Gabriel is with your little friends right now. You, on the other hand, have a snitch to catch and a broom to ride.” She snapped her fingers.

         Suddenly I found my clothes had changed, the colors reflecting red and gold to match one the teams. A broom was in my hand. “I do not know what game you are asking me to play, but I cannot play it!” I answered the woman. This was too far from what I knew.

         The woman did not seem to give any credence to my presence or lack of understanding. Instead she readied a stick—a wand that moved objects from a trunk on the ground. “Players, To the sky!”

 

The broom kicked up as well, seemingly having a mind of its own. My hand was unable to let go of it, a force too strong keeping us tethered as I dangled from the ground while the broom rose. The crowd continued to roar. What was Gabriel thinking? Angels do not need brooms to fly.

Whatever game I was expected to play had started, other children on broomsticks dodging left and right as different oddly shaped objects were hurled from one place to the next. I had to use all of my power to avoid being hit by one particularly loathsome ball that continued to chase me.

On and on this went, my ability to regain balance on the broom only improving with every ten minutes of this incessant, terrible game. I should have no part in this. I needed to get back. After twenty more minutes of battling with this infuriating broom that disobeyed at every turn I saw it.

It was a small speck in a sea of chaos, but no one else had the ability to see that which cannot be seen. No one had the eyes of a soldier of Heaven except for me. So, this must be my role. This must be how I get out.

“Do you see it, Castiel?” a voice boomed over the arena. It was the woman from earlier. “Do you see the golden amulet snitch? That’s our Father! See if you can find him!”

The golden orb was God. Gabriel was taunting me in finding our Father. Of all of these games, all of these roles—Gabriel is playing tricks to get me to see the impossible, to get me to realize what every other angel has chosen to believe.

No, I will catch this amulet. I will find God.

It was relentless, the snitch dodging my attempts just as quickly as I attempted to make them. I was not meant to be in this world with unknown battles and flying broomsticks. My world is far less phantasmagorical. It is an oxymoron, that sentence, considering who I am and where I come from, but the matter remains. I am an angel that found himself in a world of magic. We are similar but different. These are not the witches and wizards I know, and this game most definitely is an illusion I have never heard of. Humankind does not possess the ability to play this, but that will not stop me from proving this to Gabriel. Gabriel has to see that it is possible to find Him again. God is not this snitch. It is an illusion. I will make my brother see reality.

The snitch continued moving, going into the outer rim of the arena and into it. It’s light was fading, flicking in and out with the bars and metal of the arena it maneuvered around. This was proving to be difficult, with every quick movement sending me into a barricade of wood instead of where I wanted to go. I could feel the scrapes hitting me, obscuring my view.

No. I needed to get out. I needed to show him thi—

Then the world turned black, a circle of fire raged around me. There was no longer a crowd of people, no longer a golden being to chase after. God was not there anymore. I was lost… lost in darkness… even more so now. It was awful. I had failed.

 

There were voices, faint but distinct. Dean’s was first. He seemed to be talking to someone. Once I recognized Gabriel’s voice, I realized where I was. If Gabriel was captured in a ring of holy fire than that which was still trapped in his world would most likely see some form of it as well. This was my form; this was what I was seeing.

I could not make out the conversation fully, not until Dean asked that I be brought back. It was only after that that I felt the world shift, reality once more becoming what it was—a world that was no longer fiction. I was not trapped in a television world anymore.

Instead we were back in the warehouse, empty save for the three people that were already there and the heat of the fire around my brother. I could not gauge his expression, but when he spoke I could feel the blood of my vessel boil.

“How’s the search for daddy going? Let me guess. _Awful_.” He sounded victorious, happy even. He was living in the fantasy game me put me through, only he thought he could already see how it ended. I wanted to strangle him. I will admit it, I wanted to strangle my own brother, the archangel Gabriel who was thought to be dead. How dare he.

Dean picked up on my anger, weather because the fire elevated in the room or something else I do not know. We walked out, but not before Dean spoke to Gabriel one last time. It appears their conversation had been just as heated as our own.

Looking at him then, at Gabriel… this was not the angel I once knew. This was a being that had driven himself to fantasy in the hopes of escaping reality. This was an angel that had already given up, choosing instead to want it all to end so that he did not have to think about the truth any longer. He believed his own lies. He was lost…

There was nothing more I could do for him, not now.

I drove with the Winchesters for a while, but not without being lost in my own thoughts. They did not ask what had happened to me. I did not tell them, nor did I ask what my brother did to them. There are thoughts on all of our minds that we had to figure out what to do with. Fantasy is not going to help us. Reality is where we are grounded.

…

I will not fail again. I will not fail in reality. This war will end with God coming back. I will catch the amulet this time.

 

Yours,

Castiel

 


	32. 5x09 The Real Ghostbusters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more coda than it is episode, but it deals with post 5x09 and pre 5x10

Report:

We parted ways for a time in search of any information we could find regarding the Colt and God, but neither I nor the Winchesters had gained any new leads in the time since Gabriel’s resurfacing and now. It is frustrating, not knowing. I cannot return to Heaven to look either; everything is chaos and mystery, not hints for retribution. And, to top it all off, Sam and Dean disappeared on the whims of the prophet Chuck. That was not the part that gave me any surprise, however; what made me concerned was that I could not locate Chuck himself. A prophet left unattended is a trap without its spring for any demon; he could be taken easily, and yet I have no way of finding him. I can only hope the same can be said for the demons that would no doubt wish to sink their abhorrent hands to learn the secrets of Heaven from the man responsible of carrying the word of God. Not even Chuck has provided aid in my search. Everything is at a standstill.

At least Sam and Dean are protecting him, now. They had said it was a matter of life and death, but they did not give me the location to let me help them. Instead when I finally was able to get a hold of them once more they told me to not come; Chuck’s life was still in danger, but not from any threat apart from Sam and Dean themselves. It appears he has found a way to anger the Winchesters further, though Dean did not comment as to what when we spoke. Instead I updated them on the dry spell that had befallen my search, but neither Winchester commented on the doubts I knew were digging their way into their brains. I am not human; I will never be human, but I can see. We are angels trained in detecting emotions, even if we ourselves were never meant to feel them.

I did not get a call until a few days later, a rather exasperated Sam giving me information regarding a crossroads demon by the name of Crowley. Though Chuck could not aid me in my search, he has been able to supply valuable information concerning the Colt. Rather, it was Chuck’s new lover that had helped, though how she plays a role in this Sam refused to tell me. Dean also did not tell me what it was that had brought them to Chuck’s aid in the beginning either. For two men that have been tasked with saving the world, they are imbeciles when it comes to the art of communication.

Nevertheless, I searched for the demon. Tracking it down, or rather, him, was far easier than the heist I had been pulling myself through as of late. I found the string of areas where he had been recently, either due to a demon deal that had come to term or evidence of a recent deal that had occurred. One demon that I caught while in the middle of saving a poor soul from the pits of Hell spoke of the demon I was searching for, saying he was working his way up through the ranks. She was in the process of making a deal with an unwealthy man who had found himself incurring debt when I found her. Crowley had taken the case away from her when she had been away, a ploy taken to attempt to get ahead. She gave me the information while the twisted soul that became a demon underwent purification. The process failed, but not before I knew where to find Crowley. It’s… going down. That is something

Sacrifice for the apocalypse; that is the rule that has been written. I have already done so much in the process, lost much of my existence because of it. The words that will be written about me will not be benevolent now; I acknowledge it, and I know Chuck will see the same visions when he sees this moment in the future, the lines of the Winchester gospels expanding to include the future that they must stop. My end does not matter. What is important is ending this battle before it has a chance to fully erupt; stop my brother from freezing the world over.

Save the world. That is what we must focus on now.

 

Yours,

Castiel

 


	33. 5x10 Abandon All Hope

Report:

He was a cross-roads demon, Crowley; enough deals having been made to have a target on his own head amongst his demonic conspirators. No one liked him and yet there were those that envied him. To think demons still retained human emotion, but I suppose it is to be expected that the emotion they most express is envy, anger, and greed.

I followed him to a mansion, but Crowley knew better it seemed. The entire façade was covered with angel warding. I needed non-celestial help; I needed the Winchesters.

I could not aid any further, therefore I watched from afar as they enlisted the help of a mother and daughter, Jo and Ellen Harvelle. I had yet to meet them, but Sam says they are good people. Dean says Ellen’s husband worked with their father; that they were “in the life.” I chose to not question it.

We reunited back in Bobby’s home, the plan already having been set for tomorrow’s work. Crowley had told Sam and Dean of Lucifer’s activities in Carthage, Missouri. I had felt the presence gather around that town for the last few weeks, but until that point I had not had a verifiable source to know whether or not it was in fact my brother. The devil walks the earth and he is in Missouri. Why Missouri?

Jo and Ellen were interesting women; rather extroverted, actually. When we first met, Jo instantly observed while Ellen pulled me into a human hug. Jo followed suit after that, but not before asking me if I knew who she was. I told her I did; Dean spoke of her fondly. She seemed to take something from that, though what I do not know. Human minds are infuriatingly intricate when they do not say what they mean.

They asked me to “do shots.” My initial thought was why they would wish to shoot bullets, but when Ellen took small pint-sized glasses out of the cabinet I thought it best to wait for them to explain. Sam and Dean went to the study to deliberate while I was with Jo and Ellen. They taught me what is referred to as a, “drinking game,” apparently. I informed them that it would take a lot for me to be inhibited. They only seemed to take that as a challenge. I had had about 15 shots when I told them I was starting to feel something in my stomach. It was an odd buzz, but it had yet to inhibit my motor functions. I do not know how imbibing works; it was never something we were meant to do, therefore I do not know the customs to it. Am I meant to wait for someone else to take a shot? To take a shot for them? Jo’s reaction only aids this confusion.

Bobby wanted to take a picture, a snapshot to remember the day before the reckoning. No one seemed to understand the true implications of Bobby’s words; everyone wants to take it lightly. Tomorrow we hunt the devil… This is our last night on earth. Those are not words you take lightly; this is not something to be taken lightly. A picture is a snapshot of an emotion, a glimpse into a moment. There is a reason no one smiled.

           

~

 

Carthage was thriving, but not for the right reasons. There was no human soul within miles of the center district, but every available space was taken up by a reaper. All were motionless, all were waiting. There are more here than the Chicago fire, than Pompeii... This was the brink of genocide. Not a single reaper looked in my direction in the time I spent canvasing the town. I needed to know what was causing this.

They were all staring at a central building in the downtown district, as if waiting for their creator…

No. Could that be?

One reaper locked eyes with me. I knew that was where I needed to go, and I needed to get there quickly. Opening doors was a human hassle. It takes too long.

The reaper was gone when I had made it inside, but there was a sound of rushing water that gave me a clue as to where to go. I felt the temperature drop considerably, my own instinct telling me just who was responsible for that. The entire area was tinted blue, the molecules in the air freezing due to their proximity. The blinding flash of light only verified my thoughts.

When I turned around, I found myself in a ring of holy fire. The flames did nothing to stop the cold that was in the room, but not even that stopped the sensation I felt when I saw him.

Lucifer stood mere steps away from me, watching, waiting. It was unnerving. His power came in chilling waves, his presence doing nothing to stave this innate feeling I felt tightening in my chest. This was my brother; this was the Devil, and I was trapped.

How he knew my name I do not know. We had never truly met, him having been cast out while I was still learning. I do not like the tone in his voice. It is unsettling.

I told him I was alone; that I had willingly journeyed in an automobile so as to not arouse suspicion that it was me that had arrived. I needed to make sure Lucifer did not know about Sam, Dean, Ellen, and Jo. They needed to survive. This was my last day on earth. I expected pain. I expected to be eradicated from existence at the snap of a finger.

What I did not expect was him to bargain, to try to get me on his side. The very though turned my vessel’s stomach over. He thought we were the same; he thought that just because I had rebelled that I would choose to follow him. He thought that I would bow to his will like I did Heaven. He thought I was peculiar. The only thing he was right about was the latter.

I am abnormal; I have fallen; I have rebelled, but I will not betray Humanity. I will not willingly allow for them to die.

He let me “think it over,” gave me time. I needed to find a way out of here without him realizing it. The room we were in had pipes decorating the ceiling, the source of the water from earlier. One of these would have to have a way to get me out.

Hours went by and I saw the sun begin to dip. Of all people, the demon Meg showed up, a puppy seeking attention. She knew about Sam and Dean; had trapped them. I needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Lucifer left, a ritual that needed to be kept. The reapers and the disappearances made sense then. Lucifer wanted to summon Death. I _really_ needed to get out.

Meg was excited about the prospect of a new world order. Keeping her talking was imperative for my escape.

The screwed loosened as I dug into her fears of Lucifer. My planned worked, the pipe falling enough to push her into the ring with me. Catching her was simple, but she suddenly became far too close. In any other situation I believe this might have been a human custom of awkward, but I needed to get to Sam and Dean. Meg could wait and serve a purpose for me. I did not think twice.

I found them in a field outside of a farmhouse, Lucifer speaking with… something. It did not have a form, not then, but bodies were everywhere. The ritual had taken place. I got Sam and Dean out of there without turning back. The power was terrifying.

Neither wished to tell me about Ellen and Jo. Neither wanted to tell me the truth about what had happened. I do not blame them. Losing people one cares about can leave the deepest scars, that much I have already seen in Sam and Dean. They were in shock. They needed time. That is what I would give them.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	34. 5x11 Sam, Interrupted

Report:

There are rumors circling about Anna’s incarceration and reevaluation, those that I am still able to hear at any rate. She is resisting to Heaven’s persuasiveness. I cannot say I am rather surprised to have heard that. Heaven’s will is a vice grip. She will not last much longer.

I had a lead in Anchorage: a traveling family that had been presumed dead suddenly appearing, their scars and hypothermia healed despite all medical standards. It had to have been God. No other angel had staked their claim to the “miracle.” I spent two days in the deepest parts of the forest just outside the town to no avail. He had left, it seemed. I cannot abandon my faith; I cannot.

The Winchesters have kept to themselves after the failed attempt to stop Lucifer in Carthage. Dean still calls from time to time, but the last I had heard of them was that they were going to “check-in” at a hospital for a few days. They refused to tell me where, but it was for a case, not for their own personal needs. The last thing I needed to hear was that one of them had been severely injured.

Or at least that was what I thought. Two days after that call, I heard Dean’s prayer. I had been in a small diner named Biggerson’s, listening for any information that I could catch when his voice roared past all the others.

For a vessel of an angel, Dean himself rarely if at all prays, and with these telecommunication services in the form of the woman’s voice on the phone that he insists on me using, he very rarely prayed to me directly if at all until now.

_I’m going crazy, Cas. Can you believe it? I mean, I figured we’d end up in the nut house at some point in our lives, but not like this!_ He sounded frightened, which instantly heightened my own senses. A Winchester does not get frightened. _We’re on a case: wraith in a mental hospital that a pal of Dad’s is at. Sam is in lockdown, the nurses aren’t real. I don’t know what’s up anymore, man. I don’t know what’s happening._

Prayers are one-sided conversations. I can hear Dean speaking, but I am helpless to respond without him telling me where he is. I can get a general location—somewhere in Oklahoma—but that will mean nothing if I cannot reach him now.

_You can’t get involved. We’re handling this… somehow. I just… I need a drink. Clears my head, you know? How weird is that, a drink clearing someone’s head? Do angels drink? You had a few with Jo and Ellen… They died because of us, Cas. They died and we’re gonna die here too. You rebelled against your own family and it didn't end up doing shit. Cas, I'm sorry we're such a mess._

I had not realized I nearly caused all the lights in the diner to explode at that point, my grace responding to this unknown feeling that coursed through my vessel. The waitress at the counter was attempting to divert everyone outside of the diner to prevent any casualties. I was the only one left before I realized she was motioning for me to move. She did not realize she was speaking to the cause of the sudden electrical surge.

I did not hesitate. I moved to any and all local hospitals and mental institutions that I could find in Oklahoma. They had to be in one of them, and if it meant I had to search them all then so be it. Dean’s voice had gone quiet for too long.

It returned a few hours later, well into the night. _I’m gonna figure this out, you hear? This is just an update. We’re gonna figure this out. I don’t even know if you can hear me, but we’re gonna figure this out._ A pause. _Breathe, Dean. Just breathe and think. Cas isn't gonna be here to help you as much as you want him to. You need to figure this out without going any more crazy._ It sounded as if he was talking more to himself now than he was to me, but his thoughts came in waves, the words at times muffled or clouded, as if he was drugged. For all I knew, maybe he was.

_Find Sam. Find Martin. Find Cas. Tell Cas. Find the bitch wraith. Stop looking at the mirrors. Man, not for nothing but I could really use an angel right now. Look at the people. Look at the people. Look at your feet. Nothing's screaming. Nothing's hurting. This isn't hell, Dean. You're cool; you're cool._ _Cas is out there. He's fine._   _He isn't dead. Sammy's not dead. You're not dead... yet, but don't think about that._  Every few minutes it would come, breaks in a running string of thoughts that was Dean's subconscious trying to keep him occupied. 

It took a few more hospitals and mental institutions before I found the Impala in the woods not far from Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital in Ketchum, Oklahoma. Before I went in, alarms started blaring, a siren in the middle of the night. I watched a back entrance open and two forms come spiraling out, one larger than the other, who was flying like a cheetah. It was Sam and Dean. They had escaped.

They found their way to the Impala quickly, but I stayed behind to make sure they were not followed by human security. Everyone sported a soul; there were no monsters that came out. The Winchesters were clear.

To have gone to them would mean to admit to hearing dean’s prayer, something I suspect would not have bode well for him. That is why I departed without a word, not wanting to eavesdrop on their conversation. There is a place and a time for such things, and a trust to be kept. The words Dean said were not meant for anyone to here but himself; there is still much to comb through in his mind. Better not add more unnecessary clutter and let him sift through what is important. I will rejoin then soon enough.

 

Yours,

Castiel


End file.
